


Set the World On Fire

by yarnjunkie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anderson Is a Dick, Body Dysphoria, Bullying, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Genderfluid Sherlock, Homophobia, John Watson is a Saint, M/M, Other, Rugby Captain John, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Slow Burn, Unilock, Unplanned Pregnancy, balletlock, bigender Sherlock, he sort of has a mind of his own, sherlock may be bigender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/pseuds/yarnjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly are very successful ballet dancers and best friends. Sherlock is genderfluid and Molly and Irene are trying to coax him out of the closet before Uni starts. Everything changes when Sherlock meets John Watson, the popular captain of the rugby team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Just Not Ready

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lookupkate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/gifts).



> *NOTICE: Kate (the most fantastic girlfriend in the history of ever) and I had some conversations about Sherlock's pronouns, his intentions vs. the narrative voice, and how he should be identified in memories. I feel like my version of gender fluid Sherlock wants to use gender-specific pronouns ('he/him/his' on masculine days and 'she/her/hers' on fem days), so my narration will reflect that. Even if Sherlock is trying to be masculine on fem days, I will refer to Sherlock with feminine pronouns. In memories, Sherlock will be referred to as male before he realizes he is genderfluid. After that the pronouns will depend on how he identified at the time. This chapter has been edited to fit with this. I know it might be confusing, but it's confusing for poor Sherlock too! Again, anyone (especially anyone who is gender fluid and can give me some first hand insight) who feels like I'm not portraying gender fluidity correctly is welcome to say something. Leave me a comment or your email address and I'd be glad to talk to you about it!* 
> 
> I know I have two other stories that I should be working on, but Kate and I spent an entire night talking about genderfluid!Sherlock and rugby!John and this just sort of happened. It was banging around in my mind and had to come out!!! 
> 
> For Kate. Love you so.

Her hands move from one item to another. Some are softer than others, some are brighter, some have lovely floral patterns. She loves them all. They make her sad and jealous. 

“You can try on anything you like, you know,” came a cheery voice from behind her. “I mean, most of it won’t fit right, but you know you’re always welcome to anything in there.”

Sherlock’s shoulders fell and she turned away from all the beautiful things hanging in Molly’s closet. Molly moved to her side and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's waist, holding her and attempting to comfort her friend. She relaxed in Molly's grip. 

Dear, sweet Molly. She’d been Sherlock’s best friend for their entire lives. Their mothers had met at birthing class and bonded over the fact that they were due on the same day. Sherlock had apparently been anxious to escape his uterine prison and had arrived 2 weeks early, while Molly must have been quite cozy and was born 3 days late. They’d been inseparable since they were very young. Their mothers had arranged playdates almost daily and decided to send them to the same school. 

When they were six and Molly was signed up for ballet lessons, Sherlock had moped, sulked, and been a horrible brat until his mother signed him up too. Sherlock and Molly had both fallen completely in love with dancing and it was quickly discovered that they were both very talented. Their natural chemistry meant that they were fantastic dancing partners. They could read each other’s bodies and eyes so well that they almost seemed to actually read one another’s minds. They could see even the slightest deviations in each other’s movements and tweak their own actions to compensate. As a result, they’d been very successful in competitions and had won more titles than either cared to remember. It wasn’t about the titles for them. It was about the dancing.

Even more importantly for Sherlock, the dancing was an escape. He could leave behind the world that he didn’t understand, the world that didn’t understand him, and just focus on his connection with his best friend. Molly was the only person who knew who Sherlock Holmes really was. 

A couple of years ago Sherlock had become depressed. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Molly knew something was wrong and every day she’d try to convince him to talk to her, tell her what was bothering him. Sherlock would always answer “I don’t know”. And it had been true. He hadn’t known what the problem was. Everything was wrong. Just everything. All the time. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. WRONG!

One night, during a rehearsal, Sherlock was so distracted that he dropped Molly during a lift. Her head hit the wooden floor with a sickening thud and Sherlock thought he would hear that sound for the rest of his life. He felt the urge to vomit. Molly had been fine really, but Sherlock had been nearly catatonic with guilt. He was so fucked up and stuck in his own head that he’d nearly killed his best friend, the most important person in the whole world, his Molly.

Sherlock had started to cry. No, not cry. Sherlock sobbed. He wailed and screamed until he was hoarse and Molly had held him all through it, quietly crying tears of her own. When he had calmed down, Molly asked again what the problem was and, finally, Sherlock tried to explain. He tried to describe how some days he woke up and everything was fine, but other days he woke up and everything was wrong. On the ‘wrong’ days he felt disgusted with his own skin. He felt like his body didn’t fit. His curves and lines were in all the wrong places and his genitals looked like a horrible disfigurement. That body wasn’t his; he wore it like a suit. It itched and chaffed and didn’t work the way needed it to. His clothes made him sad. He’d grown out his hair, trying to hit some sort of balance between what he liked on ‘right’ days and what he needed on ‘wrong’ days. 

Molly took it all in. She told him that she’d help. They’d figure out what the problem was and try to make it better. The next day, she’d taken him to the library where they had studied medical and psychology texts until their eyes crossed, then took to the internet where they followed trails left by others. By the end of the day they were exhausted, but Sherlock felt he’d finally found an answer. ‘Genderfluid’.

They made a plan and the next time Sherlock had a ‘wrong’ day she went straight to Molly’s house. They had gone to her bedroom and locked the door. Molly opened the closet and told Sherlock to pick whatever she liked. Sherlock immediately reached for the dress she liked best on Molly, the green dress with the sparkles on top, but realized it would never fit her. She thought about Molly’s wardrobe for a second and changed tactics. She pulled out an over-sized pink jumper that Molly often wore during rehearsals and a black skirt that she never wore because it was too long.

Sherlock went into the adjoining bathroom and changed into the clothes. They didn’t seem as stiff and horrible as her more masculine clothing. She felt like she could breathe easier in them. Sherlock looked at herself in the mirror and, for the first time in a long time, her reflection made her smile. The pink jumper was soft and thin. It clung to her and felt good against her skin. The skirt was tight across her hips and stopped just at her knees. It was flowy and swishy when she moved. Her legs felt free and she liked the feeling of air moving against her skin. 

Altogether, she felt better. This felt more right. It was a relief. She’d started to tear up when he heard a soft knock at the bathroom door and Molly asked if everything was ok. Sherlock opened the door and Molly looked her over. They locked eyes for a several moments before they had simultaneously broken into tears and wrapped their arms around each other. 

There had been no need for words, they read everything in each other’s eyes. Sherlock had found what she needed to feel ‘right’ on ‘wrong’ days, and Molly would accept it without hesitation. 

“Sherlock? You okay?” Molly’s voice broke Sherlock from her memory and brought her back to the moment.

Sherlock only nodded in response. 

“I know it’s a ‘wrong’ day, Sher,” Molly said. “For two years you’ve come here and worn your feminine clothes on ‘wrong’ days. What’s different about today?” 

“You know what’s wrong, Molly,” Sherlock replied. “This is your birthday party. There will be people here.” 

“So?” she shrugged. “You don’t care what people think about you in general. Why would it suddenly matter just because you’re in a dress?”

Sherlock didn’t really have an answer for that. She just wasn’t ready for people to know. 

“You have those dresses you bought. They’re still in that bag in the back of the closet. Irene will be here soon. We can do your hair and make-up just like we did last weekend. You’ll be beautiful, Sherlock!”

“No, Molly. I- I’m just not ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be the first to admit that I know NOTHING about being gender fluid. I read over some things online and that's the extent of my knowledge. I have no intention to be offensive. If anything I've written is blatantly wrong, PLEASE point it out! I'm open to criticism as long as it's constructive!


	2. Incorrigible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene arrives with gifts for Sherlock. Everyone gets a tiny dose of reality. 
> 
> Potential trigger warning: Mentions of beatings, rape, and murder. Nothing graphic, it's literally just briefly mentioned. Three little sentences and it's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NOTICE: Kate (the most fantastic girlfriend in the history of ever) and I had some conversations about Sherlock's pronouns, his intentions vs. the narrative voice, and how he should be identified in memories. I feel like my version of gender fluid Sherlock wants to use gender-specific pronouns ('he/him/his' on masculine days and 'she/her/hers' on fem days), so my narration will reflect that. Even if Sherlock is trying to be masculine on fem days, I will refer to Sherlock with feminine pronouns. In memories, Sherlock will be referred to as male before he realizes he is genderfluid. After that the pronouns will depend on how he identified at the time. Chapter one has been edited to fit with this. I know it might be confusing, but it's confusing for poor Sherlock too! Again, anyone (especially anyone who is gender fluid and can give me some first hand insight) who feels like I'm not portraying gender fluidity correctly is welcome to say something. Leave me a comment or your email address and I'd be glad to talk to you about it!* 
> 
> Thanks again to my beautiful love, lookupkate. Go read her stories, if you haven't already. Her writing is what brought us together and one of the reasons I fell in love with her. She's fabulous! Love you, pet!

Before Molly could argue further, the doorbell rang. 

“That’ll be Irene. I’ll get it. Be right back.”

Sherlock glared at the clothes in Molly’s closet again before sighing dramatically and throwing herself down on the bed. She was lying there, decidedly not pouting, when Molly and Irene came back up the stairs moments later. Molly had a couple of gift bags in her hand and Irene had several more which she immediately thrust in Sherlock’s direction. 

“Happy birthday, you sexy bitch!” 

“What are those?” Sherlock asked warily, eyeing the tissue paper-filled, bow-festooned bags.

“Your birthday gifts, of course!” Irene answered with an eye roll. 

Sherlock sat up, but still didn’t take the bags. “Irene, I told you-“

“That we couldn’t throw you a party,” she interrupted. “Yes, but you didn’t say no gifts. So take these and open them or I’ll open them for you. Either way these things are all especially for you and you’re going to take them.”

She huffed and took the bags from Irene, sitting them in the floor by her feet. 

“Molly should open hers first,” Sherlock said, trying to think of any excuse to not open her own gifts. “It’s her birthday.” 

“No,” Molly replied. “Your birthday was two weeks ago, so you’re late. Open yours first.” 

“Fine! You two are incorrigible,” Sherlock muttered. 

“Of course we are,” Irene laughed, pulling Molly down to sit on the vanity bench with her. They both looked at Sherlock expectantly. 

She sighed and reached for one of the bags.

“No, wait!” Irene exclaimed. “Open the red one first and then the blue one and the pink one last.” 

“There are rules for gifts now?” Sherlock growled.

“Shut up and do as I say.” 

Sherlock picked up the red bag and removed the glitter-covered tissue paper. She reached in and pulled out a case made of black cloth, sat it on her lap and opened the zipper. Inside was quite a large assortment of high-quality makeup. There were several pots of foundation powders, a collection of blushes and bronzers, two dozen shades of eye shadow, mascara, numerous eye liners, and half a dozen lipsticks. 

Sherlock looked up at Irene, not really knowing what to say. 

Irene grinned. “I thought it was time you had your own makeup. There’s a set of brushes in there too.” 

Sherlock reached back into the gift bag and retrieved a roll of fabric that matched the stuff the bag was made of. She loosened the string holding it closed, and unrolled it to reveal a beautiful set of professional brushes. Sherlock thought they were beautiful. 

“Thank you, Irene,” she murmured, stroking one of the fluffy brushes with the tip of a finger. 

“Keep going!” Irene squealed. “The blue one next. There are two boxes in there.” 

Sherlock pulled the blue bag over in front of her and dug the tissue out. Inside were two shoeboxes. The sight of them caused a jolt of joy in Sherlock’s heart. She only had one pair of feminine shoes, a simple pair of black flats. She was simply too embarrassed to go into a shop and try on women’s shoes in front of the salespeople. She felt like they were watching her. 

She quickly retrieved the first box and flipped the lid open. A soft gasp escaped her lips when she saw the gorgeous pumps inside. They were a vintage style in a lovely shade of green with a rounded toe and short, thick heel, white patent leather trim and ankle straps, and a black and white striped bow on the toe. 

“Open the other ones!” Irene urged. 

Sherlock sat the first box aside and removed the other box from the bag. When she opened the box, Sherlock thought she’d never breathe again. These shoes were so lovely they made her heart ache. Open toes, very high heels, purple satin covered in black lace and a purple flower on the toe. 

“Oh, Irene,” Sherlock whispered.

“Do you like them, Sherlock?” 

“I love them. They’re beautiful!” she paused and looked up at Irene. “But I’ve never worn heels. I’m not sure I can walk in them.” 

Irene laughed. “Oh, darling. It’s not even as difficult as dancing on pointe. I can help you figure it out, but I’m really quite sure you’ll find it easier than you think. Now, open that last gift!” 

She was a little sad about having to put her lovely new shoes away, but Sherlock replaced the lids and put the boxes back in the bag. She reached into the final bag and pulled out a folded pile of purple fabric. She let it unfurl in her hands and saw that it was a fabulous cocktail dress. Sherlock examined the front before turning it around and scrutinizing the back as well.

It was satin overlaid with lace. The satin stopped above the bust, leaving the top of the sleeveless dress made only of lace to display the skin of her chest, shoulders, and back. In the back, the neckline dropped into a dramatic V to show even more skin. The skirt would stop several inches above her knees. It would be the sexiest thing Sherlock had ever worn and she itched to put it on. 

“Oh, Sher! Isn’t that lovely?” Molly gushed. “It’ll look great on you! Put it on.”

“No, Molly.” Sherlock said.

“What’s wrong?” Irene looked upset. “Do you not like it?”

“Of course I like it, Irene.” Sherlock stood and walked over to drop a kiss onto Irene’s cheek. “But I’m not wearing these things today.” 

“Why not? You’re having a fem-day. Why not wear a lovely dress to the party?” Irene asked.

‘Fem-day’ was Irene’s term. Sherlock didn’t really like it, but it was much better than ‘wrong day’ so she had allowed it to stick. 

“How did you know I was having a fem-day?” 

Irene smirked. “I can see it all over you. The way you move, the way you’ve been fawning over those feminine gifts. Your voice changes on fem-days too. But that doesn’t matter. What matters right now is why you’re refusing to wear that amazing dress.” 

Sherlock sighed and sat back down, looking down at the dress still clutched in her hands. “Because I’m not ready for people to know. Half the people there will be mine and Molly’s classmates. I still have to face these people for a few more months and they’re horrible enough without one more weird thing to attack me for.” 

“Yes, but college will be over in a few months. We’ll be starting Uni and you’ll never have to see most of them again.” Molly argued. 

“Well that’s where the other half of the guests come in. Your boyfriend and his rugby teammates will be in Uni with us and I have no desire for them to know anything about my nontraditional gender right now. Maybe not ever.”

“Mike is a good guy, Sherl.” Molly replied. “He’d never be mean to you and I’m sure he wouldn’t let his friends be rude either. Even if they do say anything, I can just kick them out. Your comfort and happiness is more important than any of Mike’s mates.”

“Do you plan on staying in the closet forever, Sherlock?” Irene asked.

Sherlock groaned. “Of course not.” 

“Then you’ll have to take your feminine half out in public at some point. You told me and nothing bad happened.” 

“That was different,” Sherlock argued. “You’d been dancing with us for years. You were already my friend and I trusted you.” 

Irene smiled, “I’m glad you trusted me. Now you need to trust that most people in the world are generally good and the world won’t come crashing down if they find out that you’re gender fluid.”

Sherlock gaped at her. “Are you bloody insane? Do you have any idea what kinds of horrible things could happen to me if people found out? I’d be lucky to get off with just a beating. It’s not outside the realm of possibility for me to be raped or killed. I’d be beaten to death, most likely.”

“Yes, darling, I know. I was trying to be positive.” Irene muttered. “You almost never go out alone. You’re always with me or Molly, or that delicious brother of yours. Someone would be there to help keep you safe.”

“Irene, please.” Sherlock pleaded. “Can we drop this? I want to wear my regular clothes to the party and I don’t want anyone outside of this room to know that I’m anything other than this. And stop thinking about Mycroft that way. It’s revolting.” 

“Of course. We’ll leave you alone about it.” Molly answered, handing Sherlock the two gift bags she’d brought in. “These are yours too, from me.” 

In the first bag was a box full of hair accessories. Sherlock found all manner of headbands and clips decorated with bows, beads, feathers, sequins, and even a few seashells. The other bag contained a black sundress covered in a pattern of red, pink, and purple flowers and a beautiful pair of green suede flats. There was a bow on the toe that Sherlock thought looked like an adorable little leaf. 

Sherlock stood and walked across the room to pull Molly into a hug and kiss the top of her head.

“Thank you, Molly. These are wonderful gifts.” 

“You’re welcome! Now where’s my gift?” Molly asked with a giggle. 

“Later!” Sherlock exclaimed, turning back to Molly’s closet. “Right now we have to get you prettied up for your party.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr. I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkie


	3. I'll Be Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally time for Molly's party! Sherlock meets some new people. It doesn't go particularly well.

Sherlock and Irene set to work preparing Molly for her party. Irene did Molly’s makeup while Sherlock fixed her hair, twisting it into a fancy updo. When they were finished, Molly smiled at her reflection and gave them each a hug. 

“Thanks so much girls. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You’d be a big mess, probably” Sherlock smirked. 

Molly swatted Sherlock’s arm playfully. “You’re so mean!”

“You won’t be saying that when you see what I brought you,” Sherlock replied. 

“Oh! A present for me? Aren’t you a love?” Molly cooed. 

Sherlock laughed as she retrieved the gift she’d brought along, concealed in her duffel bag “I thought that would change your tune.” She turned and handed the gift to Molly. 

Molly smiled brightly as she pulled the ribbon from around the box. Her face morphed into an expression of surprise as she removed the dress that had been packed inside. It was a lovely dress. The bodice was cream-colored and overlaid with black lace; the rest of the dress was made of a gauzy black fabric with beautiful drape. 

She gazed silently at the dress for so long that Sherlock began to get nervous. 

“Do you not like it?” She asked. “It’s the same one you tried on at the shop a few weeks ago. You said you wanted it for your party. I can-um… I can take it back if you don’t want it.” 

Molly dropped the dress and spun around to take Sherlock in a hug. 

“Of course I like it, you idiot!” Molly squealed. “I didn’t even know you were paying attention in that shop. I certainly didn’t expect you to buy it! Sherlock, I can’t take this! It was so expensive.” 

Sherlock pulled back and looked Molly in the eyes. “You listen to me, Molly Hooper. You’ve been my best friend since the day you were born; eighteen years and three days to be exact. You stayed by my side even when all the other children were horrible to me. You are the only reason I haven’t gone completely insane. Two years ago you brought me through the worst part of my life and you’ve never judged me or even hesitated to accept me. You’re the best friend I could have asked for. You are the most important thing I have. You deserve a million pretty dresses, and anything else you could ever want. That dress isn’t enough to even begin to repay what I owe to you.”

Irene had completely frozen where she stood. She’d never heard such sentiment coming from Sherlock. A tear slid from Molly’s eye. 

“Oh, Sherlock,” Molly breathed with a watery grin. “You don’t owe me anything. We’re best friends. I’d do anything for you and I will never judge you just for being yourself.” 

“Stop crying,” Sherlock huffed.

Molly giggled. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to you being so… honest and emotional.” 

Sherlock made a disgusted noise in her throat and pulled away. “You’ll never get me to say it again and I intend to deny this conversation ever took place.” 

“But I have a witness!” Molly replied, waving a hand to indicate Irene. 

“Oh, yes,” Irene agreed with a wicked grin. “I heard the whole thing.” 

“If either of you ever breathe a word of it, I’ll never speak to you again.” 

“You’re terrible with threats,” Irene said. 

Sherlock sighed and turned away from the other girls. “Both of you shut up and get dressed.” 

Both girls laughed merrily as they began getting ready. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Molly!” Irene exclaimed as Molly came back in, wearing the dress Sherlock had given her. “You look beautiful! Great choice, Sherlock.”

“Molly chose the dress,” Sherlock replied. “I had nothing to do with it. But you do look fantastic, Mol.”

“But something is missing,” Irene said, looking Molly over with a concerned eye. “Oh, I know just what you need!” 

Irene strode across the room and dug in her purse. She returned with a small, flat black box wrapped in a gold ribbon. Molly smiled brightly and took the box. Inside she found a simple string of pearls with a jeweled clasp. 

Before Molly could say anything, Irene smiled and took the necklace. She moved behind Molly and fastened the necklace around her neck. 

“There,” Irene said as she turned Molly to face the mirror. “You look wonderful! Mike won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.” 

Molly blushed and giggled. “Thank you, Irene. You look wonderful too.” 

Irene was wearing a dark red dress that was too short, too tight, and showed too much cleavage to be considered anything close to proper. But, then, that’s just Irene’s style. 

Molly‘s eyes flicked up to observe Sherlock’s face in the mirror. She was smiling at Molly and Irene, but there was sadness in her eyes. Molly went to her friend, pulling Sherlock into a hug and stretching up to whisper in her ear. 

“I know I said I’d leave you alone, but I want to remind you one last time that you’re more than welcome to wear something feminine tonight. I want you to be happy.”

Sherlock closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “Is that your way of telling me I look terrible in what I’m wearing?” 

“God, no!” Molly replied, leaning back to take in the dark blue button up and charcoal-colored trousers Sherlock had chosen. “You look hot. But you also look a little sad.” 

“I am a little sad. Jealous, really. But I’ll be fine.” 

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two hours later Molly’s house was full of people, most of whom were well on their way to getting completely smashed. Sherlock held a cup of beer in her hand as she leaned against the dining room wall. Molly stood beside her, sipping a fruity drink of some sort and chatting with some idiotic girl Sherlock didn’t care about. Irene was in the sitting room, chatting up another idiotic girl. Sherlock was so bored that she considered going back to Molly’s bedroom and finding something to read. 

“MOLLY!” bellowed a voice from the dining room doorway. 

Sherlock rolled her eyes after catching sight of the group of rough-looking blokes in the doorway. She recognized Mike and knew the other men must be members of his rugby team. They were already loud and annoying, and they hadn’t even started drinking yet. 

An enormous grin split Molly’s face as she waved her boyfriend over and accepted a kiss from him. The rugby team erupted into hoots and catcalls causing Molly and Mike both to blush. 

“These are my mates. Thanks for inviting them. Hello, Sherlock.”

Sherlock gave Mike a quick nod, before continuing to ignore the entire lot of them. 

“There are drinks in the kitchen,” Molly said, “help yourselves.” 

Mike looked over at the man closest to him. “Would you bring me a beer, mate?” 

The man nodded and followed the rest of the team into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday, Molly,” Mike said, leaning in for another kiss. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you. The dress was a gift from Sherlock and the necklace came from Irene.” 

Sherlock suspected that most blokes wouldn’t like hearing that their girlfriend had received an expensive dress from another man. But Mike was one of the nicest people Sherlock had ever met. He understood that there was nothing going on between Sherlock and Molly. Sherlock also suspected that Mike knew Sherlock wasn’t quite like other men and made it a point to treat him extra kindly because of it. 

“You have great taste, Sherlock.” Mike grinned. 

“I had little to do with it really,” Sherlock replied. “Molly and I were shopping a few weeks ago and she told me she wanted that dress but didn’t want to spend the money on it. I went back and got it for her.” 

“Still, it was very kind of you. I’m glad Molly has a friend like you.” 

“Mike,” a voice called. 

Everyone looked over to see the fellow Mike had asked for a beer. Mike took the bottle from his hand. 

“Molly, Sherlock, this is my best mate and the captain of the university rugby team. This is John Watson. John, this is my girlfriend, Molly.” 

John reached out and gave Molly’s hand a gentle shake. “Hello, Molly. It’s nice to finally meet you. Thanks for inviting all the lads to your party.” 

Mike spoke again, “And this is Sherlock. He’s Molly’s best friend and her dancing partner.” 

John reached forward to shake Sherlock’s hand as well. Sherlock hesitated for a split second before returning the gesture. John’s hand was rough and warm. The touch of it caused a jolt in Sherlock’s stomach. She’d never felt anything like it and had no idea what it meant. John smiled and Sherlock felt breathless. She pulled her hand back and looked away for a moment.

“Nice to meet you, Sherlock.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Sherlock replied. 

“Wait a minute,” came an oily voice from behind John. “Mike said Molly is a ballet dancer.” 

“Yeah, so?” Mike said. 

“So if this guy is her partner, he’s a ballet dancer too.”

“What’s your point, Anderson?” John asked, crossing his arms and subtly placing himself between Anderson and Sherlock. He had a feeling he knew what kind of stupid thing Anderson was about to say. 

Anderson sneered and looked at Sherlock. “A male ballerina? Must be a poofter.”

Molly and Mike both released sounds of outrage. Mike turned away from Molly to stand next to John and glare at Anderson. 

“Anderson what the fuck is wrong with you?” John asked.

“What? Nothing’s wrong with me. He’s the one who likes to prance around in tutus.” Anderson laughed. 

“Get out.” John said.

“What?” Anderson asked, looking completely bewildered. 

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” John yelled. People around them stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the three men obviously having a confrontation. 

“You’re a member of my team, Anderson.” John continued. “And men who want to play on my team are expected to behave in a dignified way on and off the field. I will not tolerate any of you being derogatory to other people. Get out of this house or you’ll regret it at the next practice.” 

“You’re really going to do all of this over some queer little baller-“ Anderson’s sentence was cut off when Mike grabbed him around the neck. 

“Outside!” Mike growled and dragged Anderson toward the front door. The crowd erupted into cheers as Mike pushed him outside and slammed the door in his face. 

John turned and fixed a worried eye on Sherlock. “I’m sorry about him. He’s a cock. Are you alright?” 

Sherlock nodded, “Fine.” 

“Good.” John smiled and Sherlock thought she might be in danger of melting. 

“Why did you speak up for me?” she asked.

John blushed just slightly and licked his lips. “I don’t like seeing people get picked on, especially not over their sexuality. Bit of a soft spot.”

Sherlock took in John’s expression and the clinch of his hands.

“Your sister,” Sherlock said. 

John’s jaw dropped. “How did you know that?” 

“That’s not as important as the next thing I’m going to tell you.” Sherlock answered. 

“Huh?” 

Sherlock took a deep breath. She’d been deducing others long enough to know that what she said next would cause John to either thank her, or punch her in the jaw. 

“The girl you came in with, the little blonde?”

“Mary? Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.” John turned around to find Mary had wondered off. “Where’d she go?” 

“Over there” Sherlock pointed to the girl who was standing in the hall.

“Oh, yeah. What about her?” 

“She’s seeing someone else.”

“What?” John asked. His shoulders fell and confusion furrowed his brow.

“Watch her. She checks her phone, smoothes her hair and clothes, and watches the door. She’s waiting for someone. Someone she wants to look good for.” 

John watched and, sure enough, Mary did everything that Sherlock had said. 

“No,” John said, shaking his head. “No. Mary wouldn’t do that.” 

He looked back at Sherlock and she almost argued with him. But she didn’t want to upset the man that had been so kind to her, so she bit her lip and said nothing. 

“It was nice to meet you, Sherlock. Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

John turned and walked away. For the first time in her life Sherlock really regretted making a deduction. 


	4. Sneaking Glances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Sherlock's deduction about Mary is unpleasant. The girls have a discussion about Sherlock's sexuality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left kudos and comments! I get excited every time someone tells me they're enjoying this story. It means a lot to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you! 
> 
> And thank you to lookupkate for making sure I keep writing and always being willing to let me talk things out when they get jumbled in my head. Also, thanks for talking about rugby and football butts with me, I know that must have been sooooo difficult for you. ;) You're the best girlfriend in history, I'm sure of it. Love you.

Sherlock didn’t speak to John again during the party. She did watch him though. John seemed laid-back and happy. He got along with almost everyone and people seemed to automatically like him. Sherlock was irrationally grateful to notice that John was keeping a wary eye on Mary. John and Sherlock were both watching as she enthusiastically greeted another young man with a squeal and a hug that lasted just a bit too long to be considered ‘friendly’. Sherlock glanced over to see that John was looking back at her and frowning. Sherlock looked away, feeling slightly ashamed.

‘Why do I feel ashamed?’ Sherlock asked herself. ‘I’m not the one who’s betraying John. Although… I AM the one who revealed the betrayal. That doesn’t make me guilty, but I suppose it does make me accountable for some of John’s distress. I didn’t mean to cause him trouble. I just wanted to help.’

Sherlock found that the thought of causing John distress, even indirectly, made her uncomfortable. She’d never cared about upsetting strangers or anyone at all really; Molly and Irene being on the only real exceptions. She spent the majority of the evening avoiding John and trying not to stare at him. That proved to be more difficult that she thought. He was very handsome and Sherlock found herself glancing in his direction a lot more than she should. 

As the party wound down, Mike convinced most of the rugby team to stay and help clean up. Sherlock grabbed a trash bag and went into the sitting room, planning to pick up the empty cups and bottles that had been left sitting around. She froze in the doorway when she saw John and Mary already in the room. They were whispering furiously, obviously having a disagreement and attempting to hide it. 

Just as Sherlock was turning to leave, John’s eyes flicked over to her and she froze. Mary followed John’s gaze, noticing Sherlock in the doorway. Mary straightened her back, sniffed, and looked back to John. 

“You’re being ridiculous, John. Call me when you’ve calmed down.” Mary turned and nearly ran Sherlock over in her haste to leave the house. 

Sherlock watched as John’s eyes dropped to stare holes in the floorboards. He clinched his fists and breathed harshly for a moment. He pursed his lips and looked up. “I’ll go see if Mike needs help.” 

As John walked past her, Sherlock couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and grabbing his arm. John looked up into Sherlock’s eyes; hurt, anger, and confusion all apparent on his face. 

“I- um. I am sorry, John.” Sherlock said quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t mean to upset me?” John asked harshly, pulling roughly out of Sherlock’s grasp. “You told me my girlfriend is cheating on me and you didn’t think that would upset me?”

“I’ve never been good with predicting other people’s emotional responses to my deductions. I honestly didn’t intend to upset you. I wanted to help.”

“Help? You thought that would help.”

“Wasn’t it kinder for me to tell you now, rather than letting you find out for yourself later? Maybe after you’d fallen in love, or gotten married, or even when a baby was born that just didn’t seem to look like you at all?” Sherlock was getting a bit angry now, too. John was being stupid! Didn’t he see that Sherlock had just been trying to save John some time and effort? “I just wanted to repay you for helping me.” 

John seemed to soften just a bit. “That wasn’t necessary. Anderson is an arse and you didn’t deserve any of those things he said to you. However, you were wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.” 

“Well you were this time,” John spit. “You’re wrong about Mary. The person she was waiting to see was just a friend.” 

“Oh, please! You and I both saw how she practically jumped into that man’s arms. That was not a friend.” 

“SHUT UP!” John shouted, startling Sherlock. He took a deep breath and continued in a near whisper. “My girlfriend told me that she’s not cheating on me and I believe her over some bloke I’ve just met, who knows nothing about me or her. Keep your thoughts to yourself next time, eh?”

John turned and walked away, leaving Sherlock standing alone and feeling completely adrift. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After the house had been tidied and the rugby team had left; Molly, Irene, and Sherlock went upstairs and got ready for bed. Clad in pajama pants and t-shirts they all lounged around the bedroom, discussing how well the party had gone. Molly and Mike had a wonderful time talking and dancing. Irene had gotten the number of the girl she’d spent most of the night chatting up. They were planning a date for next weekend. Sherlock hadn’t been punched or made anyone cry, so the other girls counted that as a success. Sherlock saw no reason to ruin that by telling them had happened with John.

“So, Sherlock.” Irene cooed. “What’s the story with that cute little blonde bloke you were making eyes at all night?” 

“What?” Sherlock squawked.

Irene giggled. “You know what I’m talking about, you tart! Mike’s mate. The one that tore into that oily-looking little rat for calling you a poofter.”

“John?” Molly asked with a grin. “Sherlock! Were you ogling the captain of the rugby team?” 

“No!” Sherlock protested

“Yes she was!” Irene exclaimed, flopping down on the bed so that her head rested in Molly’s lap and looking up to her face. “Every time I looked at Sherlock she was sneaking glances at that gorgeous man.” 

“I was not!” Sherlock was blushing, much to the delight of her friends. They erupted in giggles and Sherlock rolled her eyes, silently fuming until they calmed down.

Molly reached over and clasped Sherlock’s hand. “Sherlock,” she said gently, “it’s okay. John is very handsome and he was nice to you. It’s ok to be interested in him.” 

“I didn’t know you were into men,” Irene interjected. “You’ve never expressed interest in any of the blokes we know.” 

“I’ve never been interested in anyone at all.” Sherlock responded. “I thought perhaps I was asexual and/or aromantic. But honestly, I haven’t thought much about it. Being gender fluid is confusing and difficult enough without adding to it.”

“And has meeting John made you rethink any of that?” 

Sherlock stayed silent for a few moments, considering her interactions with John. 

“I don’t really know,” she answered at last. “I do find myself physically attracted to him, which has never happened before.”

Molly grinned and Irene squealed. 

“BUT,” Sherlock spoke over Irene’s happy noises, getting the girls’ attention and quieting them. “he got quite angry with me.” 

Molly’s face dropped. “What? What happened?” 

“I wanted to thank him for what he said to Anderson. And I- erm. That is, I told him…” Sherlock sighed. Now that John had told her it hadn’t been kind, she was hesitant to reveal what she’d said.

Irene sat up and turned toward her. “Told him what, Sher?”

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock looked down at her fingers as she picked invisible lint from Molly’s quilt. “I told him that his girlfriend was cheating.” 

“Oh, dear.” Molly whispered. 

“He didn’t take it well.” Sherlock added.

“No, I’d imagine not.” Molly replied. Sherlock’s shoulders fell and Molly hurried to comfort her friend. “Sherlock, it’s ok. I’m sure John was upset, but not at you. I’m sure it was unpleasant for him to get the truth from a stranger, but I’m also sure that he was angry with her and not you.”

“It didn’t seem that way when he was yelling at me,” Sherlock shook her head and stood up. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t want to think about it.” 


	5. Natural Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 weeks after the party, John and Sherlock meet again. After watching Sherlock dance, John has a lot to think about.

3 weeks later:

“Are you sure it’s ok for me to be here?” John asked quietly as he and Mike made their way down the hall. There were several numbered doors on each side, a different bit of music or voice coming from each room.

“Yeah, mate. It’s fine. Molly has always said she’d rather I come in and wait instead of sitting out front in the cold. I can’t imagine she’d want me leaving you out there.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Mike.” John said, stopping in the middle of the hall. “I just meant, well, it’s Valentine’s Day. That’s a couple thing. I have no desire to be a third wheel on a romantic date.”

Mike chuckled. “Don’t worry about that. Molly and I had a talk about this and we decided that we spend enough evenings alone. For Valentine’s Day we’re going to buck tradition and go out as a group.”

John eyed Mike for a moment before huffing out an annoyed breath. “This is your way of keeping my mind off Mary, isn’t it?” 

At least Mike had the decency to look abashed. “Look, mate. I was worried about you, and Molly wanted to help. We were thinking about doing a double date with Irene and her girlfriend anyway. I didn’t want you to be alone and Molly was upset about leaving Sherlock alone, so we decided it would be fun to just all hang out together.”

John’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack for a moment.

“Sherlock?” he croaked. “Sherlock is coming too?”

Mike nodded, confused. He thought John and Sherlock had got along alright. John kicked Anderson out for insulting Sherlock, after all. 

John turned around and stalked off, ready to walk right back out the front doors. Mike jogged to catch up and grabbed John by one elbow.

“What’s wrong, John? I thought you and Sherlock had got on alright.”

John looked at his feet and breathed in deeply through his nose. His face burned slightly with shame at the memory of how he’d treated Sherlock. John had yelled at him and basically called him a liar. That hadn’t been kind and it just wasn’t like John Watson to be unkind without a very good reason. Sherlock had been trying to help and hadn’t deserved to be shouted at. 

“Sherlock is fine,” John finally answered. “But I was a dick to him. I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to speak to me again.”

Mike laughed for a split second, sure that John was having him on. The pained expression on John’s face told a different story. 

“Seriously? You? John, you only get rough with people who deserve it. What could Sherlock have possibly done? You’ve only met him once and you only spoke to him for five minutes.” 

John’s shoulders slumped. “He told me that Mary was cheating. I didn’t take it well. I made my displeasure clear by yelling at him and calling him a liar.” 

“Oh.” Mike said with a breathy laugh. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” 

John looked up at his friend, confusion clear on his face. 

“People yell at Sherlock and call him a liar all the time. It because of those deductions he makes. He never stops to think that people might not want to hear the worst about themselves or have others hear the worst about them. Molly says he’s been chinned more than once.” 

“That doesn’t make it ok for me to treat him like that,” John responded.

“No,” Mike agreed. “But it may mean that he’ll be willing to forgive you.” 

John huffed and looked down at his feet. 

“Come on,” Mike urged, tugging John back further down the hall. “Try talking to him and if he doesn’t forgive you I’ll stand between the two of you all night so you don’t have to look at each other.” 

John didn’t put up any resistance. As much as he didn’t want any awkward confrontation with Sherlock, he did really want to talk to him again. The younger man had been so interesting with his deductions. John had spent a lot of time during the last three weeks wishing he’d been able to talk to Sherlock a bit more. 

Finally, they reached the right room and Mike cracked the door far enough to see inside. John could see the two dancers standing in the middle of the floor. Molly was facing the door; Sherlock was backed up against her and faced the opposite wall. Molly smiled and waved them in. Mike led John to a bench just inside the door and they sat down. Across the room, an older woman hit some buttons on a stereo. A beautiful melody played and John watched as Molly and Sherlock began to move.

John knew that ballet was supposed to be a dance that told a story. He’d seen a few ballet performances on telly because his mother enjoyed them, but he’d never been able to figure out what they were trying to say. Even John could interpret this dance. This dance was passion and fire. This dance was sex.

He watched, slack-jawed, as the dancers moved. They circled around each other gracefully, running their hands over one another’s bodies, clinging together before spinning apart. Sherlock reached for Molly, longing displayed in every inch of his body. Molly ran to him and he lifted her high above him before slowly lowering her, their bodies sliding together on her way down. They twirled, jumped, and dipped. Sherlock threw himself to the floor and Molly landed, straddling his hips. He reached for her, pulling her down towards him and John was sure they were going to kiss before Molly leaned to the side and they rolled across the floor. When they stopped, Sherlock was atop Molly. He leaned forward for another kiss, but Molly grabbed his arms and launched herself out from under him. Sherlock gripped her arm and she fell into him. He rose to his feet and Molly went up on pointe. Sherlock used his hands on her waist to spin her around before snatching her up into another lift. 

They continued in this astoundingly sensuous dance, but John lost track of them when he realized that he was becoming aroused. His thought it must be from the erotic nature of the performance. He was aware of Mike next to him and thought it would be very bad to be getting turned on by his best mate’s girlfriend. But as John studied the hard lines of muscle in Sherlock’s thighs as he extended his legs in a leap, John was shocked to realize that his arousal had nothing at all to do with Molly. 

John had been watching Sherlock the entire time. It was a truly marvelous sight. His vest and tights clung close to his skin, putting every inch of him on display. His muscles rippled and stretched as he moved, standing out starkly when he leapt or lifted Molly. Dark curls swirled around his face as he spun across the floor. Even the pointing of Sherlock’s toes when he jumped was fascinating to John.

‘No.’ John thought to himself. ‘No, no, no. NO! This can’t be right.’

John had played rugby for years. He’d seen enough naked blokes to know he wasn’t gay. Yeah, okay, so he’d checked out an arse or two. Maybe he’d occasionally caught himself gazing a bit too long at an uncovered cock. But that was just natural curiosity, right? Suddenly, John wasn’t so sure. The fact that he had to shift to relieve the pressure in his trousers didn’t help that theory.

The sound of Mike’s clapping dragged John out of his thoughts. Refocusing on the dancers, John could see the dance had ended with them wrapped in a very tender embrace, nearly kissing but not quite there. They looked like real lovers and John felt a tiny surge of jealousy. He shook it off and started applauding.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock was startled when he heard a second set of hands begin clapping. He’d heard the door open and knew it was Mike coming in. He did that often. He must have brought someone with him. Sherlock and Molly broke apart, breathing hard. They both turned toward the bench and Sherlock’s jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw John. 

“You did very well today, danseurs,” Mistress Dubois called from the corner. “You may go.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” they replied as Molly grabbed his arm and dragged him over to greet the men. 

Sherlock and John stood awkwardly as Molly and Mike hugged and began speaking excitedly to each other. John didn’t like the silence and he started to panic a bit. 

“Um…” John began, not knowing what he intended to say. Sherlock’s steely eyes locked onto his and John felt a flutter in his stomach. “Hi,” he muttered lamely. 

“Hello, John.” 

The silence descended again and both men were wracking their brains for something to say. Luckily, Molly noticed. 

“Hey, guys,” she chirped. “Let’s head over to my house. Sherlock and I need to get showered. I’ll have Irene and Libby meet us there and then we can all go out.” 

They all agreed and Molly and Sherlock gathered their things, slipping sweats on over their dancewear. The four of them left the studio, Mike telling a story about something that had happened at school. Neither Sherlock nor John spoke much on the journey to Molly’s house. Sherlock was worried about how he and John were going to get along. John was thinking about his reaction to Sherlock’s dance; that was very confusing indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr. I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkie


	6. Let's Start Simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day gets weird for both John and Sherlock when Molly and Mike decide to play cupid.

When they arrived at Molly’s house she shooed Mike and John into the sitting room to wait while she and Sherlock went upstairs to shower. 

“You and Sherlock gonna be alright, you think?” Mike asked, flopping down on the couch and flipping on the telly. 

John took a seat at the other end of the sofa. “Yeah, I guess. He doesn’t seem upset or anything.” 

“I told you it’d be alright,” 

John made an affirmative noise and watched as Mike flipped through the channels until he found something he deemed worth watching. 

“How’d you like that dance, then, eh?” Mike asked, looking at John with a goofy grin. 

John tried to keep his blush down with sheer willpower. It didn’t work. “It was, uh… it was good. Yeah.” 

Mike snorted. “Good? Bloody hell, John. That dance they do is fucking astounding. Might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I snogged Molly senseless the first time I saw it. Honestly couldn’t help myself.” 

“That’s because you’re nothing but a randy bastard.” 

Both men laughed at that. 

“Really though, mate. It’s a great dance, right? It’s their routine for some big competition coming up and they’ve been working really hard on it.” 

“Yeah, it’s amazing.” John answered. “They’re both fantastic dancers. Are you not worried about it though?” 

“Worried?” Mike asked, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “About the competition? No. They’ve done a million of these things and they rarely lose.” 

“No, not about the competition. Are you worried about your girlfriend doing such a… sensual routine with another bloke?” 

Mike laughed heartily. “No, mate. It’s not like that with them. Molly and Sherlock have been best friends since birth. They’re practically brother and sister. Besides, I don’t think Sherlock goes in for that sort of thing.”

“What does that mean?”

“I dunno. Sherlock’s never had a girlfriend or anything. As far as I can tell, he’s never even been on a date. Molly says he’s never been interested in any girls that she knows of.” 

For some reason this information made John’s heart beat a little faster. “So, is he- um. Is he gay or something?” 

Mike shrugged, “I honestly have no idea. Molly either. She told me that he doesn’t like most people in general. Molly told me weeks ago that he finally admitted to being attracted to someone, but she promised Sherlock that she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. He might be gay, straight, or anything in between. You know, Kinsey scale and all that. We all fall somewhere.” 

“Yeah.” John murmured. 

“What about you, John?” Mike asked in a voice much quieter than was usual for him.

“Hmmm?” 

“Where do you fall on the Kinsey scale? You’ve ruined enough women that I know you’re not gay. But what about all that gray area? Are you totally straight? Bi? Pan? Something else?”

John was so shocked he couldn’t answer; he just gaped at his friend.

“For heaven’s sake, John!” Mike laughed. “I didn’t mean to knock your brain offline. I was just asking! Myself, I can appreciate an attractive man, but I don’t fancy the idea of ever being with one. Just not my cup of tea. I was just curious about you. We’ve never really talked about it.” 

John’s mouth closed slowly and he clenched his jaw, looking down at the floor before answering. “I’ve never talked about it with anyone. Since all the stuff that went down with Harry and my dad, I’ve tried to not even think about anything like that.” 

Mike gave him a small, sad smile. “I know that was rough, mate, but it shouldn’t stop you from being honest with yourself. And you can always be honest with me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, John. I’m not going to judge you.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” John said, dropping his shoulders and looking anywhere but at Mike. 

“I’ve seen you checking out men before. Are you like me? You might like the way a man looks, but you’d never want to touch?”

John clenched his fist, and sniffed roughly. “No. No, I’m not like you.”

“So, would you want to touch?” Mike asked softly. 

“Maybe,” John whispered, just barely audible.

“It’s alright, John. Whatever you like is perfectly fine.” 

“Could we not talk about this anymore?” John asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” John asked, his panicked eyes locking with Mike’s. 

“Course not. You’re secret is safe with me.” 

XXXXXXXXXXXX 

Sherlock came down the stairs and went into the sitting room. He stopped just inside the door when he noticed John was there alone. John looked up and their gaze locked, Sherlock studying John’s partly frightened expression and the nervous tapping of his fingers on his thighs. 

John couldn’t look away from Sherlock. The man was so tall and fit. His dark curls faming that oddly beautiful face and accentuating his eyes which simply refused to settle on a color. 

‘It shouldn’t be legal for clothes to fit that well,’ John thought. 

Sherlock noted the flush rising on John’s face with interest, but chose not to comment on it. 

“Where’s Mike?” Sherlock asked. 

“Um…” John cleared his throat. “Molly called him up to help with the zipper on her dress. That was about ten minutes ago.” 

“Ugh.” Sherlock said as he lowered himself onto the other end of the couch, into the seat Mike had recently vacated. 

They sat in silence for several minutes, watching whatever Mike had left the on the telly. John wanted to talk to Sherlock, but he didn’t know how to start. Several times he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again when nothing came out. 

Finally he blurted out something completely unexpected. “Why did they invite us along? They’re just going to be snogging all night and making eyes at each other. Do you think Irene and her date will be the same?”

“Undoubtedly,” Sherlock replied with a little grin. “Irene and Libby are quite demonstrative, I’m afraid.” 

“Wonderful,” John muttered, sinking lower on the sofa. 

“And to answer your other question, I believe they invited us along as a set-up.”

“A set-up?” the blonde asked. “Like they’re gonna lull us into a false sense of security then beat us up in an alley and take our money or something?” 

Sherlock regarded him with a look that made John feel very stupid. “Watch a lot of movies, do you?”

John blushed furiously. 

“No, John,” Sherlock continued. “They think they’ve set us up on a sort of date.” 

“WHAT?” John was mortified. Shouldn’t Mike have asked if John were queer BEFORE he set him up with Sherlock. What were he and Molly thinking? “Why would they do that?” 

“Why do people do anything?” Sherlock shrugged. “I supposed they just didn’t want us to be alone on Valentine’s Day. I’m sure they’d say they were trying to help.” 

The silence descended again as John worked through his thoughts. It wasn’t that he was completely disinterested in spending time with Sherlock. As a matter of fact, he’d very much like to get to know the handsome, intelligent dancer. But if he were going to decide to try dating a man for the first time, he’d much rather do it without an audience, thank you very much. 

“This is going to be awful isn’t it?” John asked. 

“Yep,” the younger man answered. 

“Fuck.”

“Not on the first date, John.” 

John’s eyes snapped up to see Sherlock giving him a teasing grin. They both erupted into giggles. 

“Ah, hell,” John sighed. “We can’t let them get away with this.”

“What do you suggest?” 

“Let’s leave. I’ll buy you a coffee if you’d like. I’m sure we can find something to do after that.” John said with a nervous glance at the other man. 

“You’d better not be boring, John Watson,” Sherlock warned. “I can’t stand boring people.” 

“I’ll try my best.” 

They left the sitting room and stopped to put on their coats. Sherlock’s long, dark coat looked amazing on him and John almost said so before he caught himself.

Half-way down the block John realized they hadn’t told anyone they were leaving. 

“Should we have waited for them to come down before we left?” 

“No need,” Sherlock replied. “Molly is used to me wandering off. When they miss us, she’ll text me.” 

* ** _ping_** *

“See?” Sherlock pulled his mobile from his pocket and tapped out a reply. 

They continued walking as Sherlock answered several more texts. After a time, he put his mobile back into his pocket. 

“Are they upset?” John asked. 

“Not at all. In fact, Molly seems quite pleased with herself.” 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John and Sherlock sat quietly at a table in a darkened corner of a café. John blew on his coffee as Sherlock watched the other customers. The older man wanted to address the way he’d treated Sherlock the first time they’d met, he just didn’t know what to say. 

“You have something to say,” Sherlock said suddenly, his eyes finally landing on John’s face.

“Yes, um- Yeah. I just wanted to say sorry for the way I acted the other night. At the party, I mean.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose and he took a sip from his cup. 

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I know I was very rude and I apologize.” 

“There’s really no need-“

“Yes, there is actually,” John interrupted. “It turns out you were right about Mary.” 

“I told you, John, I’m never wrong.” 

“You were right about that, but you can’t be right about everything all the time.” 

The two men stared at each other for a while, each silently challenging the other to argue. Finally, John cracked a smile and Sherlock’s eyes softened as he smirked. 

“Fine. I’m not always right, but I’m never far off.” 

“Now that I believe,” the older man chuckled. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Alright, Watson, you got me out for coffee. What’s next?”

“I honestly don’t know,” John said. “I’d normally suggest a film, dinner, or a pub. But everything is going to be crowded tonight.” 

“Is this a date?” Sherlock blurted out before he even realized he was going to ask.

John’s shoulders tensed and he looked away, biting his lower lip. Sherlock thought he’d said the wrong thing and started to panic. For some reason his reaction was to keep talking. 

“It’s just that I’ve never been on a date before and I’d kind of like to know when I’m on my first one.” 

Sherlock’s sudden frankness and nervous demeanor struck John as incredibly cute and he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his throat. However when he looked at Sherlock and saw the confusion and hurt in the younger man’s eyes, he quickly sobered. 

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that I’ve never been on a date with a man before and I was sort of wondering the same thing.” John took a deep breath and screwed up his courage. “Would you like this to be a date?” 

John watched as a lovely pink flush crept over Sherlock’s cheeks. The younger man stared at his coffee cup, unable to look John in the eye. 

“Maybe,” Sherlock muttered. “But, like I said, I’ve never been on a date. I don’t know what you expect of me.” 

“I don’t expect anything. I just find you interesting and I want to get to know you better. Is that alright?”

Sherlock nodded and his lips curled into a smile. 

“Let’s start simple,” John continued. “We’ve already got a table so let me buy you dinner here. When we’re done, if you want to see me again, I’ll take you to a film or something next week.” 

“I can pay for my dinner, John.” 

“Nonsense, I invited you, so I’ll pay. I’ll pay for the next date too, since it was also my idea.” 

So, John and Sherlock’s first date was a dinner of sandwiches and crisps in a little café on Valentine ’s Day. As they ate they talked and laughed with an ease that made them each feel like they’d known the other for years. Sherlock enjoyed himself in a way that he never had with anyone except Molly. When they left the café neither man was happy about the evening being over. 

“Are you planning to take the tube?” John asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in an attempt to stay warm as they stood on the sidewalk in the frigid air. 

“No,” Sherlock answered. “I don’t care for the tube. Too many people, too much noise. I’ll take a cab.” 

“Alright, well-“ 

“John?” Sherlock interjected. 

“Yeah?” 

Sherlock looked at his shoes. “I would like to see you again.”

John didn’t say anything for a moment. Sherlock looked up and was immediately met with a smile that he was certain could have lit the whole of London. He couldn’t help smiling in return. 

“Great,” the older man replied. “Can I have your number?” 

“If I can have yours.”

They traded phones and entered their information. 

“I’d actually very much like to hear from you before then,” Sherlock said. “Feel free to call or text as soon and as often as you’d like.” 

“You, too,” John said. “I’d be happy to talk to you anytime.” 

“Alright. Good.” 

“Great. I’ll talk to you soon, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock nodded and watched John walk away. He was still smiling when he turned to hail a cab. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that night, Sherlock was lying in bed when he heard his phone signal a new text message.

_I had a really nice time today, Sherlock. Thank you for having dinner with me._

Sherlock smiled so widely that he thought his face might just split open. He typed out a quick reply.

**_I had a good time too, John. Thank you for asking me to dinner. –SH_ **

_I’m heading to bed. I have an early morning. Goodnight, Sherlock._

**_Goodnight, John. –SH_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr. I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkie


	7. I Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the first date. As John and Sherlock try to figure out what comes next, others start to express their feelings about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Sorry this chapter took so long. It was a bugger to write, my kid got sick, I got sick, Kate got sick, and the story had to be put off. But now it's done and it's here for your enjoyment!

Sherlock very nearly screamed as he was jolted awake by a sudden weight landing on him. 

“Wake up, Sherlock!” Molly cried.

He groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “Why?” 

Molly rolled off him, pulling the covers down and Sherlock mourned the loss of their warmth. She sat next to him and rolled her eyes. Irene laughed and plopped down on the bed next to Molly. 

“Because you had your first date! You had a real-life actual date for the first time in your life, with a boy that you really fancy and you have to tell us about it.” 

“Yes,” Irene agreed. “Tell us all about your night with the handsome, insanely fit rugby captain. Don’t spare us a single naughty detail.”

It was Sherlock’s turn to roll his eyes as he sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. 

“You’re going to be disappointed,” he warned. “Nothing happened.” 

Both girls’ faces fell. Sherlock could see disappointment and pity in their eyes. 

“Nothing at all?” Molly asked softly.

Sherlock scrubbed his hands over his eyes and through his hair. “Well, not _nothing_ , just nothing naughty. I told John about you and Mike thinking you could trick us into a date. We decided to teach you both a lesson by leaving. Plus, we didn’t want to be around the four of you being all affectionate and disgusting. But it sort of turned into a date anyways.” 

The girls’ simultaneous “aww” made Sherlock’s face burn with a blush. 

“He kissed you though, right?” Irene asked, nudging Sherlock with her shoulder. 

Sherlock’s eyes widened and the girls giggled again. “No. John did not kiss me.”

“Oh! He’s a gentleman as well, is he?” Irene sighed. “Well, next time maybe.” 

“Do you think you’ll see him again, Sher?” Molly asked. 

“Actually, yes. John said he’d like to take me out again next week.” Sherlock’s soft smile reflected the warm flutters in his belly at the thought of another date with John. 

“Next week?” Irene nearly shouted. “That’s far too long! You’ve got to keep yourself on his mind. You have him on the hook, now you have to reel him in. Can’t you see him sooner than that?”

His smile slid quickly into a frown. Irene had much more experience with dating than Sherlock did, he would probably do well to do what she said. 

“I don’t know,” he answered. “John said that he’d call me next week to take me to a film or something. I assume he’s busy with school and rugby.”

“I have an idea,” Molly interjected. “The rugby team is having a morning practice right now. I’m going to meet Mike for lunch. John comes with us sometimes. Why don’t you come along, Sherlock? Even if John doesn’t come with us today maybe we can pump Mike for information.”

“That’s perfect!” Irene cried, standing up and walking to Sherlock’s wardrobe. “Let’s get you all prettied up for lunch with your boyfriend!” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Close enough,” both girls responded in unison. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John had stayed on the field after practice to talk to a player having trouble with his knee. They were hoping Keller’s injury healed up before much longer or they were going to have to change several of their plays. Because of the delay, John was the last player out of the showers and he found Mike waiting for him on the bench near his locker. 

“How’s Keller’s leg?” Mike asked.

“He says its feeling better but he’s still stiff when he runs and it’s slowing him down. We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

John opened his locker and began dressing as Mike started tapping at his mobile. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Mike started asking questions about yesterday’s date with Sherlock. 

“So, where did you and Sherlock disappear to last night?” 

John was grateful that Mike at least had the sense to speak in a low voice, as a couple players were still milling around. He sat down next to his friend and pulled his shoes on while he answered. 

“We had coffee and it turned into dinner.”

Mike’s face split into a huge, self-satisfied grin. “Dinner, eh? Dinner on Valentine’s day. Was it a date then?”

John could feel the blush creeping across his face and over his ears. “Yeah, it was a date, you bastard. And I don’t much appreciate the fact that you and Molly tried to set us up without our knowledge. However, I suppose I have to thank you for it.”

Mike shook his head. “No thanks necessary, mate. Just name your firstborn after me and we’ll be square.” 

“Bastard,” John repeated, playfully punching Mike in the arm and causing them both to break into laughter. 

“Do you really like him?” Mike asked. “Are you going to see him again?” 

“Yes, I’m going to take him out again next week. I wish it could be sooner, but I’ve got practices and studying to do. I don’t have a free evening for a while.” 

“Dates don’t have to happen only in the evening,” Mike responded. “How about taking him to lunch?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” John replied, standing to grab his kit bag and close up his locker. “I’ll have to text him and find out what his schedule is like.” 

“I happen to have it on good authority that he’s free right now,” Mike waved his phone in the air; John assumed he meant that Molly was texting Mike about Sherlock. “In fact, Molly and Sherlock are outside, they want to know if you’d be interested in getting something to eat.” 

John was almost embarrassed by how quickly the smile broke out on his face. Almost. The knowledge that Sherlock was waiting for him and wanted to spend more time with him made butterflies dance in John’s stomach. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mike said, picking up his things and leading the way out of the locker room. 

Mike and John found Molly and Sherlock sitting on the bleachers. John’s stomach flipped as he watched Sherlock look toward him and smile. ‘I bet that smile will be the end of me,’ the rugby captain thought, ‘but, fucking hell, what a way to go.’

Molly jogged towards them, stopping Mike by jumping into his arms. John left them to their snogging and stopped in front of Sherlock. 

“Hi,” the shorter man said with a grin. He watched as a beautiful blush crept into Sherlock’s cheeks. 

John’s hair was still damp and his skin pink from the hot shower. He smiled brightly, his dark eyes sparkling as he they met Sherlock’s gaze. The effect was so lovely that Sherlock had to look away for a moment to compose himself. 

“Hello, John,” he replied. 

“So, a lunch date then, is it?” John asked. 

The younger man immediately became flustered. “Oh. Um, yes. Molly insisted that I come along. Unless you don’t want to come. I’m sure you’re very busy.” 

Sherlock started to back away, still not looking at John. “In fact, I’ll just go. I shouldn’t have come without talking to you first. I’m sorry.” 

Sherlock began to turn away, but John quickly reached out and grabbed his arm. 

“No, no, Sherlock. It’s fine. This is great actually. I really wanted to see you again.” 

Sherlock whipped back around and looked quizzically at the other man. “You…what?” 

“I wanted to see you again,” John repeated with a soft smile. “I was just telling Mike that when he said you were out here waiting. I’m happy to see you.” 

“No one is ever happy to see me. Well, no one besides Molly and Irene.” Sherlock said, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

“Well, they’re all idiots,” John replied. 

“Generally, yes.” 

The two men locked eyes and dissolved into giggles. As they began to calm down, they both noticed that John hadn’t let go of Sherlock’s arm. He took a quick moment to decide on his next action, then cleared his throat and straightened slightly. 

“For future reference,” John said in a quiet but firm voice, sliding his hand down Sherlock’s arm and intertwining their fingers, “You’re always welcome to come see me after practice. Even if I can’t go out for a date after, I’ll be happy to see you.” 

Sherlock blushed so hard he became lightheaded. 

“Noted,” he whispered. 

John chuckled. “Good. Ready to go?” 

Sherlock nodded and grinned at John. “My treat this time.” 

“You’re damn right.” 

The two men walked hand-in-hand as they followed their friends across the parking lot to Mike’s car. They noticed the smug looks on Mike and Molly’s faces, but they didn’t notice the glare of the person watching them from across the pitch. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock couldn’t believe the way this day had gone. When he woke up, he hadn’t even expected to see John, but now they’d had a lunch date and John was still clinging to his hand as Mike’s car pulled up to the dance studio. John helped Sherlock out of the back seat, and then all four friends walked towards the front doors. They were quickly spotted by Irene, who was standing on the steps with Libby.

Irene grinned when her eyes landed on John and Sherlock’s entwined fingers, and Sherlock flushed under her knowing look. 

“Well, would you look at these two lovely couples? Aren’t they lovely, Libby?” Irene smirked. 

“Oh yeah,” Libby giggled, winking at Sherlock. “Quite lovely, indeed.” 

Sherlock was initially mortified. He peeked at John, trying to gauge his reaction. What he saw nearly took his breath away. John was looking back at him with an unmistakable expression of pride. John was _proud_ of Sherlock. The popular, handsome rugby captain was actually happy to be seen with Sherlock Holmes. The warmth that bloomed in Sherlock’s chest was strange but not unpleasant. 

“Irene,” Molly interjected, “you remember John, don’t you? He was at my birthday party. John, this is our friend Irene and her girlfriend Libby. “

Both girls smiled at John. He nodded at them “Nice to meet you both.” 

Irene’s eyes snapped up to focus on something past John and her smile faltered. “Sherlock!” she hissed.

Everyone followed Irene’s eyes to the black sedan idling behind them. 

“Oh, dear,” Molly whispered. 

Sherlock sucked a breath in through his nose, his posture becoming stiff. “John, I’m afraid I have to go.” 

John’s grip of his hand tightened and the shorter man looked worried. 

“It’s fine, John. I’ll text you later, ok?”

“Yeah,” John answered, not looking like he thought it was ok at all. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll see you soon.” 

Sherlock nodded and gave John’s hand a final squeeze before letting go and walking away. 

John watched Sherlock get into the car before whipping around and stepping close to Molly.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sternly. “That car creeps me out.” 

Molly gave him a weak smile. “It’s not that bad, really. It’s Sherlock’s brother. He’s really protective of Sherlock and can be a bit of a prat when he thinks he needs to step in.” 

John eyed the car with the dark tinted windows. ‘Probably bullet-proof. It looks like the car of a bloody Bond villain,’ he thought. 

“Should I be concerned for my safety?” he asked, only half joking. 

Molly tucked her hair behind her ear and shared a glance with Irene. “Um… no? I don’t think so.” 

“Fucking hell,” John muttered. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“What do you want, Mycroft?” Sherlock snapped as soon as he was in the car.

Mycroft sniffed quietly and closed the file he’d been studying. He turned to his little brother and cocked an eyebrow. 

“Dear brother, what makes you think I want anything at all?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You never show up unannounced and pick me up off the street unless you have some grievance to fuss about.” 

“I simply wish to discuss your association with Mr. Watson.” 

“My relationships are none of your business.” 

“I quite disagree,” Mycroft replied. “You represent the Holmes family, Sherlock. Your actions and associations reflect on the rest of us.” 

“I’m sorry that I can’t bring myself to give a fuck.” 

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No need to be crass. There’s no need to be upset either. Mr. Watson isn’t a disagreeable acquaintance. He’s reasonably intelligent, studying to be a doctor. He’s attending university on both academic and athletic scholarships. He’s not been in trouble with the law. I don’t disapprove of him.” 

“Then why are you here?” Mycroft’s approval of John did nothing to ease Sherlock’s mind. He could feel that Mycroft had something unpleasant to say. 

Mycroft sat the file down between them. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands in his lap. 

“Sherlock, I know that you think only Miss Hooper and Miss Adler know about your gender identity. However, you are incorrect.” 

Sherlock started to say something, but Mycroft held a hand up. 

“Let me finish, brother. I know that you are gender fluid. I don’t care about that. I care about _you_. I’m sure you know that people can be unkind when they don’t understand. If you’re going to continue seeing Mr. Watson, I have to ask that you tell him the truth. The longer you keep it from him, the more likely to react with anger and confusion. He has a family history of violence and if he were to hurt you, I’d be forced to destroy him. I’m a very busy man, Sherlock, and I’d rather not have to take time out to hunt him down. Tell him. Soon.” 

Mycroft’s gaze stayed on Sherlock, waiting for him to respond, but Sherlock was so shocked he wasn’t sure what to say. Had his brother really just given a version of the ‘if he hurts you, I’ll kill him’ speech? Sherlock had no idea what to say about that. After few moments, the urge to have the last word finally won out. 

“I’ll tell him when I’m ready. You keep your fat nose out of my business.” With that, Sherlock reached out and opened the door, moving to exit the car.

“Tell him, Sherlock. I’ll see you later.” 

Sherlock stepped out onto the pavement and slammed the door. Everyone was gone so he stomped up the steps and into the studio. He was determined to ignore the voice in his head that was telling him Mycroft was right. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that night John was sitting at the desk in his bedroom. His anatomy textbook was open in front of him and he was trying to cram all the information they’d covered in the past month into his brain so he wouldn’t fail Monday’s test. 

He was so focused on his book that he nearly jumped out of his skin when his mobile pinged. He grinned, as he thought it must be a text from Sherlock, but his face fell quickly when he saw the message. 

**From: Mary**

**Message: I miss you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr. I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkie


	8. Whenever You're Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John talks to two people he'd rather not have to deal with, and one person he'd like to have more time with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been up for nearly 18 hours, two of which included helping wrangle 8 five- to seven-year-old girl scouts. I'm so tired I can't see straight. But I'm posting this now so you guys don't have to keep waiting for it. Kate was busy, but I did some editing. It's not perfect, but Kate said she'd help me fix any problems tomorrow. So, please ignore any mistakes. 
> 
> As for the next chapter; I'm always thinking about this story and writing bits in my head. However, I have a family member who has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and has been given 1-2 weeks to live. I'm going to be traveling very far to get to her and dealing with what's coming. I may not be able to get any actual writing done for a few weeks, but I can promise that I'll do what I can. Working on this story makes me happy and keeps me from dwelling on things I can't change, so I hope to I can find free moments to write. You've all been so beautifully patient with me. If you can keep being wonderful, I'd certainly appreciate it! Thanks for all the comments and kudos. Every single one makes me insanely happy! <3 you all!

John refilled his coffee cup and walked back to the table he had commandeered in the university cafeteria. He sat back and took a deep breath, looking over the books and paper scattered out before him. He was beginning to wonder if he was really cut out to be a doctor. He was sure he’d never be able to stuff all of this information into his head. It shouldn’t be this difficult. He wondered if all his classmates were having as much trouble as him or if he was just an idiot. Maybe he should just give up now, drop out of school, and get a job. If he worked hard perhaps he could be managing a coffee shop when his classmates got their degrees. 

Managing a coffee shop sounded so boring that it nearly made John pass out. Alright then, back to studying it was. He pulled his text book closer and resumed highlighting anything that looked important. 

He was so focused on his reading that he didn’t see anyone walking up to his table. The sound of the other chair scooting along the floor startled him and his head snapped up. John nearly groaned out loud when he saw the face of the person he least wanted to talk to. 

“Hello, John,” Mary purred as she sat down. 

John pursed his lips and went back to reading. He could see Mary in his periphery as she leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” she whined. “You didn’t answer any of my texts last night.” 

John set down his pen and straightened to look Mary in the eye.

“No, I didn’t. I’d hoped the fact that I didn’t reply would show you that I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“John, please. I’m trying to apologize.”

“I don’t need your apologies, Mary,” John spat, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “We broke up. We have nothing more to say to each other.”

“We’ve broken up before,” she replied with a little smile. “We stay mad for a week or two, and then we get back together.”

“This isn’t like that! It’s completely over this time. I have nothing to say to you. In fact I’d be happy to never see you again.” he could see that Mary’s eyes were beginning to shine with tears. The fact that she had the audacity to cry after what she did to him made John seethe. 

“No!” he shouted. “No. Don’t you dare cry to me. When we first got together I told you that I needed two things from you. I asked you to never lie to me and I made you promise that you’d leave if you were unhappy instead of cheating. That was all I asked of you. Don’t lie to me and don’t cheat on me. You did both. This is your fault, not mine. I’m not interested in any sort of relationship with you now. You need to move on.”

Just like that, the tears were gone and shadows of rage crossed Mary’s face.

“That’s what this is really all about isn’t it?” she hissed. 

The sudden change threw John for a loop and it took a moment for him to find an intelligent response.

“What?” 

Ok, maybe not so intelligent.

Mary sat up straight and glared at John. He’d never seen her look so angry and it was a little frightening. 

“All of this breakup nonsense. It’s not really because of what I did. This is all because of you. I saw you yesterday with that pretty little ballerina. I think you’re gay and just used what I did as an excuse to dump me so you’d be free to move on to that fucking poof.” 

John was so shocked at Mary’s words that he couldn’t even think for a moment. How could she possibly try to blame this all on him?

“Bi,” he said quietly. 

Mary looked vaguely amused. “What?” 

“I am not gay. I’m bisexual and, again, this is not my fault. You’re the slag who slept with that David fucker. I was always faithful to you. Our relationship ended because you couldn’t keep your knickers up.” 

John had never spoken to anyone like that in his life and it made him extremely uncomfortable. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though, and he almost enjoyed the shock on Mary’s face as he shoved all his books into his backpack. Mary didn’t even look up when he stood to leave. 

“Stay away from me, Mary. I don’t want to ever talk to you again.” 

John burst through the doors leading out of the cafeteria and charged around the corner of the building. He barely stopped himself from running over a man who was leaning against the wall. 

“Sorry,” John muttered, before trying to dart off again.

“That was very impressive, Mr. Watson,” the man drawled, stopping John in his tracks.

John turned and studied the other man. He was a bit older than John, tall and fairly thin. He exuded the very essence of neatness. Every hair perfectly in place and immaculately dressed in a posh and perfectly tailored three-piece suit. He was obviously far above John’s station and he was sure he didn’t know this man, but there was something vaguely familiar about him.

“Sorry? What was impressive?” John asked.

“The way you dealt with Miss Morstan. It was very efficient and your position was made quite clear. However, I’m afraid it isn’t going to be enough to stop her from trying to win back your affections.” 

John narrowed his eyes at the stranger. How did this man know about him and Mary? Who the hell was this guy?

“Right. Thanks, I guess.” John hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Who are you, exactly?” 

“An interested party,” the man replied, straightening up and moving to stand in front of John.

Well, that was… strange. “Interested in what?” 

“Do you intend to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?”

At the mention of Sherlock’s name, John started to panic a bit. Who the fuck was this person? Why was he asking questions about Sherlock? John’s eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles began turning white. 

“I want to know who you are and what your interest is in Sherlock.” John said, his voice dropping dangerously low. 

The older man lifted an eyebrow. John wasn’t sure, but it almost looked like this mysterious man was impressed. 

“You’ve only known Sherlock for a short time. Why are you so protective of him?” 

“Seems to me that he could use someone protective in his life. There are mysterious men roaming the streets, asking strangers about him.”

Mycroft chuckled but there was no joy in it. “Yes, quite right. I can assure you that I mean no harm. I am simply concerned about him.” 

“Concerned? About Sherlock? Why? He’s in no danger from me.” 

“Not currently, no,” the man agreed. “However, Sherlock isn’t always what he appears to be. He’s a young man with secrets, Mr. Watson, and your family has a history of handling secrets poorly.” 

John stiffened and opened his mouth to ask just how this man knew a bloody thing about his family, but the man held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m not saying that I think you’re a danger to Sherlock. I’m merely saying that if and when Sherlock reveals his secrets to you, I’ll be watching. If you hurt him, things won’t end well for you.”

John let the words sink in. Secrets? Sherlock had secrets? Okay, well, they hadn’t been together long. They’d only had two dates. So, it wasn’t like Sherlock should be expected to have told John anything personal yet. Then why was this man here? Why was he warning John not to hurt Sherlock?

“Oh, Christ!” John huffed. “You’re his brother, aren’t you? The phantom in that shiny black car. Is this your ‘don’t hurt my little brother or they’ll never find your body’ speech?”

“Mycroft Holmes. Generally, I don’t approve of physical violence except as a last resort, but I’m a powerful man and I can end your career before it starts,” Mycroft said evenly, glaring at the shorter man. “That would be a tragedy. You show a lot of promise. You’ll be a good doctor, John.” 

John was a bit shocked that the man could threaten him and praise him in the same breath. Mycroft could read the surprise on John’s face.

“You seem to have come to the same sort of assumptions my dear little brother had,” Mycroft continued. “I wish you both to know that I actually do not disapprove of your presence in Sherlock’s life. In actuality, I believe you could be very good for him. He could be good for you too, given the chance. However, the secrets he carries are not small things. It would be a mistake for the two of you to get very serious before he reveals these… hidden things.” 

Mycroft stiffened and looked directly into John’s eyes. He tried to keep his expression hard and his voice commanding, but inside he was really a bit desperate ensure John would accept Sherlock. 

“Please try to understand him, John. I’m sure you’ve noticed that Sherlock isn’t like most people. Life has been hard for him and people haven’t always been kind. He deserves so much better. I think you could be exactly what he needs.”

John watched Mycroft’s face soften as he pleaded his brother’s case. He could see that Sherlock meant a lot to Mycroft, even if the older man wouldn’t say it out loud. 

The younger man shifted, pulling his backpack higher on his shoulders. “I have no intentions of hurting Sherlock in any way. Nothing he could say to me would change that. If I don’t like this big secret, I’m perfectly capable of explaining my position and leaving if I need to.”

“He doesn’t want to tell you. He’ll keep it from you as long as he thinks he can.” 

“That’s fine,” John replied. “He can take as long as he needs.”

Mycroft nodded once and took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to not tell Sherlock I spoke to you?” 

John huffed out a laugh. “I’m not in the habit of keeping things from my- Uh, from people I’m dating.” 

“That’s actually a very admirable policy,” the taller man responded. “I’ll add that to the list of your sparkling attributes.” 

“Ta.” 

“Good day, Mr. Watson,” Mycroft said as he turned a walked toward the kerb. A car seemed to appear out of nowhere and pulled to stop right in front of him. The driver got out and held open the door. 

“A good day to you as well, Mr. Holmes,” John answered. 

Mycroft gave John a final glance. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon. I look forward to it.” 

“As do I,” John replied. He wasn’t sure if he meant it or not. Mycroft had been mostly polite, but he was also a bit scary. 

The driver shut the door behind Mycroft before climbing back in behind the wheel. The sleek, black car slid easily into traffic and was gone. John pulled out his mobile and tapped out a message to Sherlock. 

_Good morning. Are you busy?_

**Morning. I’m getting ready to leave for the dance studio. I have rehearsal at noon. –SH**

_Could I meet you there? I need to talk to you._

**Is everything ok? –SH**

_Everything is perfectly fine. I just have something I need to tell you._

**Ok. I’ll meet you out front. –SH**

_See you in a bit._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock fidgeted in her seat. As excited as she was to see John, even if for only a moment, she was also terrified. ‘I need to talk to you’ generally meant something bad was coming, didn’t it? Had Sherlock done something wrong? Had John decided he didn’t want to see Sherlock anymore? Maybe he’d decided to go back to women. 

That thought hurt. Sherlock was a woman. Sometimes. But John might not understand that. He might want a woman who was a woman all the time. Sherlock couldn’t be that. 

She hadn’t had a fem-day since she and John had started seeing each other, but she was having one today. It was scary. What if John could tell something was different? She wasn’t wearing feminine clothes, just sweats and a t-shirt under her coat; but Molly and Irene could tell when she was fem, regardless of how she dressed or tried to act. What if John could see it too? And what would happen if he asked about it? 

Sherlock felt like she might vomit. 

The cab pulled up in front of the studio. Sherlock paid the fare, grabbed her duffle, and stepped out. Her eyes immediately fell on John, who was leaning against the railing along the front steps and looking at his mobile. The sound of Sherlock’s footsteps made him look up. John’s smile made Sherlock’s heart flutter as she came to a stop, standing in front of John.

“Hey,” Sherlock said quietly. 

John knitted his brow and his smile slipped a bit. “Hey. You ok?”

Sherlock nodded. “Your texts made me a little nervous. Are you sure everything is alright?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Everything is fine. I just wanted-“

“Because I’d understand if it weren’t,” Sherlock interrupted. “If you’re not comfortable seeing me anymore, or if you’ve decided that you don’t want to date a… boy.” 

“Sherlock,” John began again only to have Sherlock interject again. 

“Just tell me and I won’t bother you anymore-“

“SHERLOCK!” 

John’s raised voice startled Sherlock out of her rambling. She just gaped at him for a moment before he reached out and took her hand. He pulled her a bit closer and settled his other hand on her hip. Sherlock forgot to breathe for a moment.

“I’m sorry I shouted,” John said quietly. “I just wanted you to stop worrying. _We_ are perfectly fine. I’m not here to dump you or anything. I just wanted to tell you that I met your big brother today.”

Sherlock looked so completely shocked and scandalized that John couldn’t help but giggle.

“Mycroft? John, no! What did he say? What did he tell you?”

John rubbed his thumb along the curve of Sherlock’s hip. Sherlock was surprised at the calming effect of such a tiny movement.

“He told me that he thinks I will make a good doctor, but he’s perfectly capable of ruining my career if I ever hurt you.” 

“Oh, Christ! John, I’m so sorry.” Sherlock replied, silently swearing that she would murder her brother at her earliest convenience. 

“It’s alright, Sherlock. He was actually quite pleasant. I think he likes me.” 

“Mycroft doesn’t like anyone.” 

“Neither did you before I came along,” John teased. “Maybe I have some special charm that Holmes men are especially susceptible to.” 

Sherlock could feel her face turning red. “I think you might be right.”

John grinned again and gave Sherlock’s hand a quick squeeze. “He mentioned something else as well.”

Sherlock’s blood froze in her veins. No. Surely Mycroft wouldn’t have told John. Even Mycroft couldn’t be that cold-blooded. 

“What did he say?”

John took a deep breath and looked directly into Sherlock’s eyes. “He said that you have secrets.”

Panic clutched at Sherlock’s heart, quickening her pulse and making her feel a bit sick to her stomach. She reached up and clutched John’s upper arm with her free hand. 

“John, I-“

“Shhh, Sherlock,” John whispered, easily recognizing the fear in Sherlock’s eyes. “It’s okay. We haven’t been seeing each other long. It’s okay for you to have secrets and you don’t have to tell me anything just because your brother is being all nosey. I want you to wait until you’re comfortable. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be ready to listen. No matter what it is, we’ll talk about it and then we’ll figure out how to handle it.” 

Sherlock swallowed around the lump forming in her throat and forced out a ‘thank you’. 

John smirked and leaned forward. Sherlock had only a split-second to register the movement before she felt John’s soft, dry lips press against her cheek. When she sucked in a surprised breath John’s scent and the warmth of his body invaded her senses and she suddenly felt a bit dizzy. It was like the feeling she used to get as a child when she’d try to pirouette without spotting. As if she were standing still and the world was tilting around her. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Sherlock. I’ll wait.” 

Sherlock couldn’t speak so she simply nodded and enjoyed the feeling of John rubbing absently at her hip. 

“Guess you have to go now, hmm?”

That snapped Sherlock back to reality. “Oh! Yes, um… rehearsal. Text me later?” 

“Of course,” John nodded. He let Sherlock walk away, but clung to her hand until the very last second. He watched Sherlock walk up the stairs and waved when she gave him a final smile before slipping inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr. I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkie


	9. Did I Do It Wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally have their movie date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! Finally! Thanks for your patience, understanding, encouragement, and all the lovely messages on tumblr. You guys are AMAZING and I'm undeserving of your kindness. 
> 
> And, as always, a big thank you to the best girlfriend in the world, [lookupkate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate) without whom I would be irretrievably lost.

Between his own schedule and Sherlock's, John was beginning to get annoyed at how little time they had for each other. He made sure to text as often as possible and slipped in a phone call once or twice. Finally, the weekend was coming and John was determined to see the other man.

_Please tell me you're free tomorrow evening._

**I have rehearsal right after school. I'll be done around 7. -SH**

_How about a date? Dinner and a film. Whatever you want to see._

**I really don't keep up with films. Whatever you'd like to see is fine. -SH**

John felt light as air as they made their plans. He'd missed the beautiful genius.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next evening John was grinning madly as they left the restaurant Sherlock had suggested, just a couple blocks from the theatre. As soon as they'd walked in the owner had swooped in on Sherlock, repeatedly telling John how Sherlock had saved her business and her life. 

"Sherlock," he chuckled, "did all of that really happen?"

The younger man tried and failed to hide his amusement before replying. 

"Yes, John. One day Molly dragged me into that restaurant where I overheard Ms. Yang telling a friend that money was disappearing from the accounts and she couldn't figure out where it was going. I was bored so I offered my assistance. After three days of investigating, I informed her that not only was it her husband who was taking the money, but that he was also planning to murder her and dispose of her body by using it in the food. The police investigated and confirmed my findings."

John stopped dead in his tracks. Sherlock turned to look at him and realized the shorter man looked slightly ill. 

"John? What is it? Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, placing a hand on John's shoulder.

The shorter man looked up at Sherlock and worked to swallow the lump in his throat. 

"He was going to feed her to people?" John asked in a strained voice.

Sherlock's eyebrows knit together. "Yes. I just said that."

"Does that happen a lot? Restaurant owners feeding people... uh, other people?"

Sherlock squinted and thought for a moment.

"Well," he answered, "I suppose with the number of privately owned eateries and the estimated number of people who commit murders, there is going to be overlap. Then, from that small number, there most certainly would be a few that would consider serving bits to the customers as an efficient way of getting rid of the evidence. What an intriguing question, John!"

Refocusing his attention on the shorter man, Sherlock noticed that John was looking very pale. He could hear mummy lecturing him about things that shouldn't be said in public. 

"Oh, but it would be such a tiny number," the younger man rushed to assure John. "I'm sure the average person will go his entire life without encountering such an event. There's really nothing to worry about, John."

"Right," John's reply was shaky, but he cleared his throat and continued in a stronger voice. "Right, yeah, sorry. That just caught me off guard a bit. Sometimes I forget how disgusting human beings can be." 

"They're not all bad," Sherlock said quietly. 

The dancer broke eye contact as a pretty blush spread across his cheeks. It was absolutely adorable and John grinned as he reached out and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, pulling him in so they were pressed together. 

"You're really cute, you know." John said quietly.

Sherlock's faced reddened further as he chanced a shy glance at John's face. 

"No, I'm not, John. Stop that." he replied, placing his hands on John's shoulders and giving a gentle push. 

The blonde just chuckled and tightened his hold. 

"You are," he said. "Especially when you're thinking. Or being clever. Or flustered, like now. Or, well, just all the time really." Sherlock couldn't believe John was saying these things. He looked at the shorter man, certain he'd find that he was being made the butt of some joke. At first all he could see was John's eyes; beautiful, dark blue, and so open that sherlock could almost feel the honesty pouring out of them. Then, he was struck by how close John's face was to his own. His heart began to pound. He had only the vaguest idea of how this might end. 

The two men just stared into each other's eyes for a moment. John's pulse kicked into high gear and he decided to just go for it and kiss Sherlock. He leaned forward just a fraction of an inch before a voice called out "Hey, John!"

Sherlock nearly jumped out of his skin and John whipped his head around to look at the two girls walking up behind him. He shot them a grin and turned back to Sherlock, giving him a little squeeze and taking a step back. Sherlock felt a little put out at John letting him go, but it was tempered when the older man took his hand and held it tightly as her turned to greet the women. 

"Hi, Sarah," John said, using his free arm to give one of the girls a hug. "And hello to you too, Julie. You both look lovely this evening."

"Yes, making ourselves this lovely has also made us late," Julie replied with a giggle. 

"Our dates are waiting at a pub right up the street," Sarah said, pointing in the direction of the theatre John and Sherlock had been heading to. "Care to walk with us for a bit?"

"We were headed that direction anyways," John turned to look at his own date. "Is it alright if we walk with them for a bit?" 

Sherlock simply nodded and was rewarded with one of John's dazzling smiles. Sherlock was beginning to think that there was very little he wouldn't agree to if it earned him a smile from the rugby captain. What a strange and unfamiliar feeling that was.

"Who's this then?" Sarah asked, eyeing the men's clasped hands before directing a bright, knowing smile at John. "Your boyfriend?"

"Er," John answered, scratching the back of his neck and not looking anyone in the eye. "This is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock these are my friends Sarah and Julie."

"Hello," Sherlock said with a small wave. 

"Hello, Sherlock," Sarah replied. 

Julie took a moment to look sherlock up and down. 

"Well, he's certainly a handsome thing. Good job, Watson." 

The compliment took Sherlock by surprise and he looked to John in wide-eyed shock. John was absolutely beaming at him and it stole Sherlock's breath. 

"He certainly is," the older man murmured, causing Sherlock's stomach to swoop alarmingly. John rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of Sherlock's hand and turned back to the women. "Should we go? Don't want to keep your dates waiting."

"Yes! Come on, Sarah!" Julie exclaimed. She grabbed Sarah's arm and tugged her forward. John and Sherlock fell into step beside right behind them. 

Sherlock quickly lost himself in thought, lulled by voices of the three friends joking and chatting and the sound of the girls' heels clicking on the pavement. He was mulling over John's reaction when Sarah asked if Sherlock was his boyfriend. John hadn't said yes, which was a little disappointing. However, he also didn't say no and that seemed like a good sign. 

Sherlock hadn't considered it really, but now he was thinking it might be nice to be able to call John his boyfriend. He imagined John saying 'this is my boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes' and it sent warmth all through his belly. 

His mind then supplied an image of John saying 'this is my girlfriend, Sherlock Holmes', and his pace faltered. 

John quickly looked over and saw the tension in the younger man's face. 

"Sherlock? You okay?"

Sherlock quickly put on a smile and nodded. "Yes, John. I'm fine. Just got a bit lost in my head, I suppose."

John grinned back. "Giant brain like yours, I imagine it's easy to get lost." 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They bid farewell to the girls when they reached the pub, then continued to the theatre. Sherlock knew John didn't have a lot of money, but his offer to pay for his own ticket was quickly refused. 

"At least let me pay for the refreshments," the brunette offered. "Would you like anything? Popcorn or a soda, perhaps?"

"No popcorn," John groaned. "Ms. Yang stuffed me so full that I may not need to eat again for the rest of the weekend. A bottle of water would be good, though." 

Sherlock got two bottles of water and they went to find seats. They'd arrived quite early and there were only a few other people around. The two men sat in silence for a while, Sherlock still mulling over the interaction with Sarah and Julie. After several silent minutes, John reached over and gently took the dancer's hand. Apparently that unlocked something in Sherlock's brain and his mouth starting talking quite without his permission.

"You and Sarah were once in a relationship." 

John eyed Sherlock for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. We went out for a while right after we started uni. How did you know that?"

"The way she hugged you and the way you both reacted at the realization that the other was exploring other relationships. Body language can tell you everything, John."

John looked confused. "I'm over her, Sherlock. It was never very serious between she and I. There's nothing for you to worry about."

"I'm not worried about her. Like I said, body language can tell you everything. You're no longer interested, I could see that." 

"Good," John replied, and they lapsed back into silence for a few minutes. 

"You didn't answer her question, though," Sherlock said, going for casual but landing somewhere much closer to nervous.

The older man's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what Sherlock was referring to. 

"Sorry, what question?" 

"She asked- that is, er," Sherlock stammered for a moment before taking in a deep breath and forcing it out. "She asked if I was your boyfriend. You didn't answer."

John studied Sherlock's face and thought he might be seeing a tiny bit of hurt written in the tension in his jaw and the way Sherlock's eyes were glued to the back of the seat in front of him. He'd wanted very much to tell Sarah that Sherlock was his boyfriend. He'd happily tell the whole world, but it wasn't for him to decide alone.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Sherlock. I just didn't know what to say. We haven't discussed that yet and I didn't think you'd want to do it on the street in front of people you didn't know."

Sherlock gave a tiny nod. "I see."

John didn't like feeling like he was hurting Sherlock's feelings. It made his chest ache and he felt sick to his stomach. He leaned toward the other man, placed his fingers under Sherlock's chin, and guided Sherlock to look at him. 

"I'm not seeing anyone else, Sherlock. I'm not interested in anyone else, and I like exclusivity in my relationships. Would you like to be my boyfriend?"

Sherlock was overwhelmed by the nearness of John's face to his own and the words coming from his mouth. He felt like he couldn't quite breathe properly. He bit his lip and nodded.

"Good," John said with a huge smile, "now that we've got that all sorted..."

Before Sherlock could even register the movement, John leaned in those last few inches and pressed their lips together. Sherlock felt like his brain was going to explode. His hand shot up to curl around the back of John's neck and he released a quiet little moan as e kiss deepened. Far too soon, John was pulling back.

"Was that your first kiss?" John asked.

Sherlock immediately began to panic. "Yes. Why? Did I do it wrong?"

"No, you didn't," the blonde chuckled. "It was bloody brilliant! The best first kiss I've ever had." 

John kissed him one more time and they settled in to watch the film. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkietumblr). I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win!


	10. What We Really Need to Discuss Are the Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shopping trip with the girls leads to a big change for Sherlock, and a run-in with a bully makes her question herself and her developing relationship with John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry for the wait. Thanks for being patient! Hopefully the chapter will be worth the wait! <3

  


" _What_?" Molly demanded from right outside the cubicle Sherlock was changing in. 

  


"Molly!" Sherlock hissed, opening the door and stepping out. "Could you keep your voice down? I'd rather not have everyone in the store listening to us."

  


Molly charged on, ignoring her friend completely. "He kissed you and you waited a whole day to tell me?" 

  


"It wasn't a whole day. It was seventeen hours."

  


"When I had my first kiss I told you within the hour," the shorter girl pouted.

  


"You didn't tell me anything," Sherlock countered. "I deduced it the second I saw you."

  


"That's the same as me telling you."

  


"Ladies," Irene drawled, "can we stop the cat fight please? What we really need to discuss are the details. How was it, Sherlock?"

  


Sherlock felt her chest squeeze and her tummy fluttered as she remembered the feeling of John's lips, soft and gentle on her own.

  


"It was brilliant," she sighed.

  


Molly and Irene cooed. Sherlock rolled her eyes and turned to face the mirrors.

  


"What do you girls think of this top?" she asked, tugging at the hem and adjusting the sleeves.

  


"It looks great, darling," Irene replied. "But I think you should get the green one. You look beautiful in green." 

  


"She's right, Sher. Jewel tones are always gorgeous on you." Molly added.

  


"You're right, green it is," Sherlock agreed before returning to the dressing room to change again.

  


She undressed and turned her gaze to the last item waiting to be tried on; a gorgeous plum-colored shirt dress with gold buttons and a wide belt that cinched in the waist. It was much fancier the things Sherlock usually bought for herself, but she had fallen in love with it when she saw it on a mannequin in the shop window. The plunging neckline made her slightly nervous but she really had to try it on. 

  


The satiny fabric felt wonderful against her skin as she slipped the dress onto her shoulders. Doing up the buttons and pulling the belt tight felt wonderfully sensual. That was something Sherlock hadn't really felt before. This dress was sexy and it made her feel sexy. She hadn't even looked in mirror and she was already positive that she absolutely had to buy this dress.

  


Finally turning to study her reflection, Sherlock couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at her lips. The rich color of the dress contrasted beautifully with her pale skin and complimented her dark curls. She eyed the hem where it hit the perfect place on her thighs and admired how the belt helped give her body a lovely feminine shape. 

  


_Shape..._

  


Sherlock frowned slightly and steeled herself before allowing her gaze to land on her chest. She deflated at the sight of the loose fabric across her front; fabric that had been cut and stitched to fit around breasts that she just didn't have. This wasn't the first time a lovely piece of clothing had been ruined by her lack of curves, but this time it was especially disappointing. Sherlock felt better in this dress than she had in anything she'd ever worn and the thought of losing it just because she didn't have breasts was absolutely heartbreaking. 

  


She had done research, of course, and she knew she had options. What she really wanted were custom bras, made to her measurements and preferences. Those were expensive though, and with Mycroft monitoring all charges to Sherlock's card it was out of the question. Mycroft may be aware of her gender identity, but there was no way Sherlock was going to have that kind of conversation with her brother. 

  


Simply avoiding the issue was another option. There were plenty of clothing lines that tailored to women with 'boyish' figures. But that wouldn't do either. The fact of the matter was that Sherlock _wanted_ breasts when she identified as female. And not wanting breasts while identifying as male made breast implants a non-viable option. 

  


Sherlock studied her reflection again and made up her mind. This dress made her feel gorgeous and there was no way she was leaving without it. That left her with just one option. She would have to buy a bra and stuff it with something. She had no idea how to go about picking a bra, nor did she have a clue what would be involved in the 'stuffing' process. Luckily, she had people to fall back on who could help her figure it out. 

  


Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door to the dressing room and stepped out.

  


"Mol? Irene? I need your help."

  


After showing off the dress and explaining her problem, Sherlock received a teary hug from Molly and a surprisingly understanding smile from Irene. They were glad to help her and about an hour later Sherlock left the store with her dress, three bras, and some inserts that had delivered on their promise to add two cup sizes. 

  


The girls had just entered a nearby cafe and sat down for lunch when Sherlock's phone chimed from the depths of her coat pocket. She fished it out and felt the familiar- but no less disconcerting- butterflies when when she saw it was a text from John. 

  


_Hello, gorgeous. What are you up to today?_

  


Sherlock couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at her lips as she tapped out her reply.

  


**I'm out with Molly and Irene. We're about to have lunch now. What about you? -SH**

  


_I'm choking down a couple sandwiches before heading out to rugby practice. Afterwards Mike and I and a couple other lads are locking ourselves in the flat to study for a big exam next week._

  


**Irene and I are staying at Molly's tonight. I'm sure they're going to be subjecting me to a variety of abhorrent romantic movies. Please text as often as possible. -SH**

  


_What, now that I'm your boyfriend you expect me to keep you entertained?_

  


**Yes. -SH**

  


_Deal. I have to go now. I'll talk to you later._

  


"Look at you," Irene said, drawing Sherlock's attention away from her phone. "Grinning like an idiot. Talking to your boyfriend, are you?"

  


"Yes, actually," Sherlock replied, setting her phone down and feigning great interest in the menu. "As of last night."

  


Molly and Irene made simultaneous sounds of excitement and Sherlock grinned broadly. 

  


"Really, Sher?" Molly asked.

  


Sherlock nodded. "He said he wanted us to be exclusive and asked me if I would like to be his boyfriend." The masculine word chafed and Sherlock fidgeted a bit before continuing. "I said yes."

  


Irene reached over a grabbed the taller girl's hand.

  


"That's great, darling. Really. I'm happy for you both."

  


"It's wonderful!" Molly agreed. She was smiling but there was a sadness in her eyes that Sherlock didn't want to think about. 

  


The cafe door opened and the motion caught Molly's attention. Suddenly, her smile was gone and her eyes were wide with panic. 

  


"Sherlock!"she hissed, reaching across the table and snatching the flower clip Sherlock had been wearing in her hair. "Wipe off your lipstick and close your coat. It's girls from school."

  


Sherlock pulled her coat tightly around her and grabbed a napkin to clean her face. The lipstick and eyeshadow were removed easily enough, but the eyeliner and mascara would have to stay. She hid the napkin in her pocket and straightened her posture just as a very familiar voice came from behind her.

  


"Hello, Molly," the dark-skinned girl said as she came around to the side of the table. "Hello, Freak."

  


Sherlock rolled her eyes but didn't look up. 

  


" _Excuse me_?" Irene asked indignantly. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

  


Sherlock smirked and waved a hand in the girl's direction. "Its alright, Irene. Don't mind Sally. She's simply a chronic bitch."

  


"Fuck you, Holmes."

  


"Just go away, Sally," Molly said.

  


Sally sighed. "Molly, why do you even waste time hanging out with this creep? You're nice enough. You could have some real friends if you'd ditch this psycho."

  


Sherlock's anger got the better of her and her head snapped up to glare at the other girl. Sally looked confused for a moment before her lips curved into an evil smirk. 

  


"Are you wearing makeup?" Sally laughed, turning to look at her friends who immediately began to giggle. "It's not enough that you dress like a posh little poofter and have never had a girlfriend? It's not enough that you're a fucking ballerina? You had to make yourself even more gay by wearing makeup?"

  


Irene's chair made a horrible screech as she shot to her feet and got right in Sally's face. Her voice was unnervingly quiet when she spoke.

  


"Sherlock is an amazingly talented dancer. What do you do that's so great?" 

  


Sally was so shocked that she couldn't even form words and it pleased Irene greatly.

  


"That's what I thought," she continued. "When we dance on stage the lights drain the color from our faces. Makeup makes our eyes and mouth more visible for the audience. Sherlock had a dress rehearsal this morning and that means full stage makeup. That's all the excuse he needs. What's your excuse?"

  


"My excuse for what?" Sally growled, enraged at being spoken to like this by a stranger.

  


"For being painted up like a cheap whore," Irene answered seriously.

  


Molly snorted and tried to contain her laughter while Sherlock cringed.

  


Sally looked mortified. She suddenly noticed that other people in the cafe were staring which only served to further her embarrassment. 

  


"Go to hell," she spat. "All three of you." 

  


Sally spun on her heel and stomped out the door, followed quickly by her three cronies. 

  


Irene sat down again, she and Molly giggling and whispering about Sally's reaction. Quickly enough they noticed Sherlock's silence. Her face was blank, eyes staring unseeingly at the table.

  


"Sherlock?" Molly called softly. The other girl didn't answer so Molly reached out to touch her arm. "Sher?"

  


Sherlock slowly looked up, her eyes bright with tears she refused to spill. 

  


"I should have told John about me," Sherlock said quietly. "How am I supposed to do it? How can I tell him when I can't even tell some idiot girls from school? I don't even care what they think. But John... How do I look my boyfriend in the eye and tell him I'm a freak?"

  


"First of all, you are _not_ a freak, Sherlock Holmes," Molly replied fiercely. "Secondly, John said he would wait as long as you needed to hear your secret. When you're ready, you'll tell him. If he cares about you, he'll accept it. If he can't accept it, you have me and Irene and we'll help you through it."

  


Sherlock wasn't convinced, but she was comforted. 

  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
  


Mary couldn't wipe the grin off her face. Most girls in her place would see this as a bad situation. Not Mary. She saw it as an opportunity. This could fix everything. It could bring John back and put her back on the path to living out life as the wife of a handsome, successful doctor.

  


Yes, this was good. 

  


There was a knock at the door. Expecting it to be her doctor, Mary called out for him to enter.

  


The man that entered was definitely not her doctor. He was tall, thin, and dressed in a three-piece suit. He was carrying a medical file which he was studying intently.

  


"Good afternoon, Miss Morstan," Mycroft said, not looking up at her as he sat down. 

A tiny ember of panic burned in her belly. 

  


"You're not my doctor. Who are you? Are you some kind of specialist? Is something wrong?"

  


Mycroft finally looked at her. He chuckled, but there was no mirth in his expression. 

  


"Nothing wrong medically, no. Your character and morals leave much to be desired though." 

  


"What?" 

  


"Miss Morstan, I'm going to tell you something and I want you to listen very carefully. I'll only tell you once and if you don't follow my directions exactly things will be very, very bad for you."

  


"What are you talking about?" Mary demanded. "Who the hell are you?"

  


"That doesn't matter. What matters is this little... problem of yours," Mycroft replied, indicating the file he held. 

  


"If you're not a doctor you can't look at my files. Those are private and confidential."

  


He smiled and tilted his head. "Mary, my dear, there is nothing the world I can't gain access to. For example;" He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small red notebook. 

  


Recognition flared across her face, followed swiftly by fear and a bit of anger. "That's my journal. How the hell did you get that?"

  


"You can have it back. I've made copies."

  


Mary snatched the notebook away from him. Her anger seemed to amuse him. 

  


"I want to know who you are and I want to know now!" Mary seethed.

  


"I'm a man who makes it my business to know things. I know that you are pregnant. And I suspect that you intend to tell John Watson that your child belongs to him. 

  


"I also know that you were sleeping with both John and David Lansly at the same time. 

  


"Finally- and here's the really helpful part- I know that you have an app on your phone that tracks your menstrual cycle. By reviewing your entries on that app and cross referencing the dates of your ovulation window with the entries in your journal I discovered that you and Mr. Watson were fighting at the time that this baby was conceived. You were sleeping with Mr. Lansly exclusively at that point. Additionally, you had unprotected sex at least once during that time because- to quote your journal- 'that idiot forgot to buy more condoms'."

Mary couldn't speak. What could she even say to that?

  


"I can certainly see the appeal of Mr. Watson over Mr. Lansly," he continued. "A school teacher makes for a far less glamorous husband than would a doctor."

  


Mycroft leaned back and studied the defeated expression on her face. Truth be told, he always rather enjoyed moments like this. The moment when he knew he was going to win and whatever he wanted would soon be his. However, Mycroft knew he'd have much more success if he offered something in return.

  


"I'm prepared to make you a deal," he said, straightening the cuffs of his jacket. "If you leave John alone I can ensure that both yourself and Mr. Lansly will receive job offers upon the completion of your studies. Very good job offers. You will live comfortable lives together. 

  


"On the other hand, if you ever bother John Watson again, I can and will make your life miserable. You won't be able to find work in all of England."

  


Mary pursed her lips and breathed harshly through her nose. 

  


"Who are you? Why do you even care about any of this?*

  


"My name is Mycroft Holmes. I work for the British government and other agencies all over the world. I'm quite possibly the most dangerous person you will ever meet. And John Watson is under my full protection. Do not cross me, Miss Morstan. That would be a grave mistake." 

  
With that Mycroft rose and exited the room, leaving a shocked and unsettled Mary in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see the dress that inspired the dressing room scene [here](http://www.thegloss.com/2008/09/01/fashion/early-fall-fashion-purple-belted-dress-knee-high-boots/)
> 
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkie). I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win!


	11. Brilliant While It Lasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly convinces Sherlock to take in a rugby game. An impromptu date follows and it does not end in the way poor Sherlock would prefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! A new chapter! Hopefully the length and content will make up for the wait. This chapter is about twice as long as the others. I considered making it two separate chapters but Kate insisted I keep it as one, so here it is. Let me know what you think! Comments feed my soul! <3

Sherlock almost didn't go to school on Monday. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't shake the fear that Sally would somehow out him. He really shouldn't have worried. Sally glared at him and muttered under her breath when he walked past, but she left Sherlock alone. The peace wouldn't last but it was a nice reprieve and it put Sherlock in a wonderful mood. A good mood that only got better when Molly found him in the library Wednesday afternoon. 

  


"Sherlock," Molly said quietly, slipping into a seat across the table from him. "Mistress Dubois texted me and said that she has to help another instructor choreograph a routine today."

  


Sherlock lifted his eyebrows but didn't look up from the large, dusty book before him. 

  


"Wonderful. We can get through our practice much faster without her incessant prattling. We'll meet at the studio right after school."

  


"No, we won't," Molly replied smoothly. 

  


Sherlock looked up then, brow knit in confusion. "Why not?"

  


"Because our boyfriends have a rugby match this afternoon," the girl answered; a big, goofy smile plastered on her face. 

  


"So?"

  


"So... watching those handsome, muscular boys running around in shorts is infinitely more appealing than dancing the same routine for the six millionth time!"

  


Sherlock thought quietly for a moment before his cheeks flushed and he attempted to hide it by looking back down at his book. "I suppose I see your point."

  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  


John walked onto the sideline of the rugby pitch and looked around like a king surveying his domain. This was John Watson's element and the moments before a game were what he lived for. This was the calm before the storm, before the violent crashing of bodies and the burning of muscles being pushed to the limit, before the exhilaration of this pseudo-battle. He absolutely could not wait for the game to start. The captain turned to look at the men he'd soon be leading into the fray.

  


"Keller, how's the knee?" John asked as the injured man pulled on his brace. 

  


"It's good, John," Keller replied. "Those exercises you and coach recommended really helped. I'm gonna jog for a bit to warm it up."

  


John nodded and slapped the other man's shoulder. "Good lad. If it hurts later, let me know."

  


John watched Keller jog for a moment before turning to talk to some of the other players about their strategy for today. He was just finishing chastising Anderson for not taking warmups seriously when he felt an arm slip around his shoulders. He twisted his head around to see Mike grinning at him.

  


"Looks like we have cheerleaders today, mate,"

  


"What?" John asked, utterly confused. 

  


Mike pointed to the bleachers and John quickly picked Molly and Sherlock from the small crowd. 

  


"Did you know they were coming?" John asked. 

  


"Nope. I mentioned the game to Molly, but I assumed they'd have rehearsal today." 

  


"Well, we really should go say hello before we have to warm up and everything. I assume you'll want a good luck kiss from Molly."

  


"Oh, yeah," Mike chuckled, "and I'm sure you'll want to thank Sherlock for coming."

  


"My mother did raise me to be polite," the blonde replied with a laugh. "C'mon, let's go."

  


Sherlock and Molly watched as their respective boyfriends jogged toward them. Mike and Molly were quickly preoccupied with each other while Sherlock and John just sort of grinned stupidly at each other. 

  


"Hello, John,"Sherlock said quietly. 

  


John's grin widened. "Hey, you. What are you doing here? I thought you'd have rehearsal today."

  


Sherlock made an affirmative sound and gave a little nod. "I was supposed to, but our instructor had to assist a colleague and gave Molly and myself a rare afternoon off."

  


"And you decided to spend it watching me play? I'm flattered." 

  


John's eyes sparkled as he grinned up at his boyfriend and Sherlock felt warmth bloom in his chest. Before Sherlock could answer, a whistle sounded and John turned to look at his coach. 

  


"I have to get back over there. Game will be starting soon." 

  


Sherlock nodded. "Good luck, John."

  


"Thanks," the older man replied, laying a hand on Sherlock's arm. "I'll see you in a bit, alright?"

  


Sherlock nodded and John gave his arm a quick squeeze before turning and practically dragging Mike away from Molly and down the pitch to where their teammates were gathered. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  


Just minutes into the match Sherlock was completely lost. 

  


"Molly, I don't understand this game. They just seem to be crashing into each other a lot. Is there a point to all this violence?"

  


"Not really," Molly answered. "I don't understand it much either, to be honest. Basically, each team attempts to score a 'try' by getting the ball over the line on their end of the pitch. A try is worth five points and after each try, the scoring team kicks the ball for for a conversion which counts for two points."

  


Both friends flinched as one of the players tackled another to the ground hard. 

  


"It looks painful," Sherlock muttered. 

  


"Judging by the bruises Mike turns up with, I'd say it gets quite painful. Although he is often just as shocked by the state of my dancer's feet, so I suppose we have no room to talk." 

  


"True," Sherlock relented. "Oh! Oh, look. John has that ball thing." 

  


They watched as John tucked the ball under his arm and began to run to the other end of the pitch. Sherlock had always thought the older man was handsome, but now he was in his element and John was absolutely exquisite. His hair glinted gold in the sunlight and sweat glistened on his skin. Sherlock was reminded of Molly's earlier words about handsome boys in shorts. His gaze snapped down to John's thighs and his mouth went dry. He stared, enraptured, as John's muscles bunched and twisted under his uniform.

  


Sherlock was torn from his reverie as John was tackled roughly to the ground. He would have been mortified by the choked off, squeaky noise that left his throat as he shot to his feet; but Sherlock was too worried about his boyfriend to even notice the sound. 

  


"Sherlock," Molly said, standing and grabbing Sherlock's arm to prevent him from marching out onto the pitch. "I'm sure he's fine. That happens all the time. John is used to it. Just watch."

  


Sherlock balled up his fists and watched as John got back up. He shouted some instructions to the other players and they all took off at a run again, John seemingly completely unfazed by the bone-rattling hit. Sherlock let out a ragged breath and looked at Molly. 

"That happens a lot?" he asked. 

  


The girl nodded and Sherlock huffed.

  


"This is horrible. Now I'm going to be worried about him constantly."

  


Molly smiled at him in a way that made Sherlock feel like she knew something he didn't. 

  


"What?" he asked a bit too loudly.

  


"You're adorable!" Molly cooed.

  


Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat back down to watch the rest of this horrible game. 

  


Sherlock found that while he cared nothing at all for the game, he very much wanted John's team to win. He even cheered out out loud with Molly when the team scored; the two of them becoming especially vociferous after the two tries scored by John and one scored by Mike. When the game was finished John's team had won and Sherlock couldn't wipe the smile off his face. 

  


John celebrated with his team briefly before following Mike back over to the bleachers. The blonde reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand before going up on his toes to smack a kiss onto the taller man's cheek. 

  


Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise for a moment and he briefly wondered if it would ever cease to amaze him that John actually wanted to be affectionate with him. He hoped not. He rather liked the fluttery feeling in his chest and belly. 

  


"Did you enjoy the game?" John asked. 

  


"Parts of it," Sherlock replied, his eyes involuntarily dropping down to John's thighs. 

  


"Oi!" The older man teased with a playful slap to Sherlock's arm. "I was out there playing my arse off and you were over here being pervy!" John leaned closer and dropped his voice so that only Sherlock could hear. "Did you like what you saw?"

  


Sherlock really did want to answer. A reply burned in his throat, but John was so close and he smelled so interesting- like sweat and grass and John- Sherlock was slightly overwhelmed. In the end all he could do was nod. He flinched when John started to laugh, but a quick study of John's body language assured Sherlock that he wasn't being made fun of and he relaxed. 

  


"Do you have anyplace to be tonight?" John asked, holding Sherlock's hand a little tighter. "Want to go get some dinner or something?"

  


Mike interrupted before Sherlock could respond.

  


"John, how about we all just go back to the flat? We can order something in and watch a movie."

  


Sherlock noticed John rolling his eyes but he couldn't tell what it might mean. 

  


"Is that alright with you?" John asked gently. "If not, it's alright. We can do something else. And if we do go back to the flat I'm not going to try anything. Just some food and a movie. Whatever you want to do, Sherlock."

  


Sherlock didn't even feel the need to hesitate before he agreed. He felt confident that John meant what he said and there would be nothing to make him uncomfortable. The smile that lit up John's face was Sherlock's reward.

  


"Brilliant!" the shorter man nearly cheered. "Let me have a quick shower and get changed and I'll meet you back here, yeah?"

  


Sherlock gave a quick nod and John pressed another kiss to his cheek before he and Mike headed off to the locker room. 

  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  


A while later the four friends entered John and Mike's flat; laden with pizzas, breadsticks, sodas, and beer. Sherlock was unsurprised to find the flat slightly messy, though it wasn't as bad as it could have been with two young, rowdy rugby-playing uni students in residence. There were a few dirty mugs and stacks of papers littering the small dining table in one corner, magazines discarded on the coffee table, and some dirty dishes stacked haphazardly by the kitchen sink. Really, it could be much worse.

  


"Just sit those sodas on the coffee table, Sherlock," Mike said, returning from the kitchen with plates. 

  


John pulled Sherlock down to sit next to him on the couch. Mike sat in a chair and Molly took a seat on the floor between her boyfriend's feet, facing the coffee table. She began loading pizza slices and bread sticks onto plates and passing them around to the boys. 

  


Sherlock munched on his food while listening to John and Mike talk over the best and worst parts of the earlier game. He and Molly laughed hysterically when their boyfriends started reenacting plays in slow-motion right in the middle of the sitting room. After a while John couldn't resist Sherlock's gorgeous smile any longer and planted a kiss on the younger man's plush lips. He sat back down on the couch and suggested they find something to watch. Sherlock felt warm and fuzzy when John slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. He rested against the shorter man and they settled in watch a movie. 

  


Molly sat in Mike's lap and Sherlock was fairly positive that neither of them saw a single second of movie. They were snogging before it even began, for Christ's sake! Sherlock tried to ignore them while simultaneously wondering if he and John were supposed to be doing the same thing. Was John waiting on Sherlock to make a move or give some sign? It struck him again how little he knew about what was expected in relationships and he worried over it for several minutes. 

  


John turned his face to nuzzle right above Sherlock's ear and whispered, "Are you alright? Is this ok?" 

  


"Yes," Sherlock replied, unsure he was giving the right answer. All he really knew was that it felt good to sit like this and he didn't want John to pull away. "It's lovely." 

  


"You've just gone all tense," John said, rubbing his hand back and forth along Sherlock's bicep. "You sure everything's alright?"

  


Sherlock didn't like that he was making John worry and decided to mimic John's calming touch. He hesitated for only a moment before reaching over and resting his hand on John's knee. 

  


"Everything is lovely, John." 

  


Sherlock felt John smile into his hair and press a kiss to his head. 

  


"Good," the older man whispered, almost more to himself than to Sherlock. 

  


A little while later, Molly and Mike got up and left the room without a word. 

  


"I was afraid that was going to happen," John said with a sigh. 

  


Sherlock sat back just a bit to look at him. "Afraid what was going to happen? Where did they go?"

  


"They went to Mike's bedroom."

  


John took a moment to relish how adorable Sherlock was when he didn't understand something before the continued.

  


"They, uh- well, they won't be back for a while." 

  


Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion before his eyes shot open wide and his jaw dropped a bit.

  


"Oh! You mean they-"

  


"Yes," John answered without making Sherlock finish the question. "and, because they never remember to turn on the stereo, we're going to hear it if we stay here. I usually go to my own room and turn some music on to drown it out, but we can just leave the flat entirely if you'd rather."

  


Sherlock liked the idea of seeing John's room. He wanted to see what sort of trinkets and books his boyfriend had and he wanted to find out what kind of music he liked. On the other hand, being alone with in John- in a room with a bed, no less- was a slightly frightening thought. A bang and giggles from the other room, reminded him that time was of the essence and he needed to make a decision quickly. He almost told John that they should leave before he remembered their conversation on the rugby pitch. John had promised Sherlock that this didn't have to mean anything and that he wouldn't try anything. 

  


"Let's just go to your room. I'd rather not run out on Molly." 

  


"Alright," John said, standing and taking Sherlock's hand to help him up and lead him through the flat. "Let's get out of here before they get really disgusting." 

  


They were both giggling as they entered the bedroom and John shut the door behind them. He walked over to his bedside table, popped his phone into a docking station, and started scrolling through his playlists. 

  


Sherlock looked around the room, which was neat and held very little in the way of personal momentos. Sherlock was surprised by that. John was sentimental and cared about his friends, leading Sherlock to expect that he'd have pictures and trinkets as reminders of time spent in the company of people he cared about. He only found one photo that would have been from before John entered uni. It sat on a shelf, partially hidden behind a jar of muscle rub and a roll of sports tape. 

  


In the photo, four people sat in the shade of a tree. A tanned brunette man sat with a young girl in his lap. They had to be John's father and older sister. A woman with fair skin and hair so blonde it was nearly white, sat with her arm around a boy with dirty blonde locks. Sherlock smiled softly at the little John in the frame. The boy grinned back; his smile missing it's two front teeth, and a dusting of freckles laying across his nose. He was positively adorable. 

  


"Your family looks nice," Sherlock said.

  


"Hmm?" John asked distractedly, as he looked up at the dancer. When he saw what Sherlock was looking at, John's face hardened and he quickly went back to messing with his phone. "Uh, yeah. I'd rather not talk about them if it's all the same to you. 

  


' _Family problems,_ ' Sherlock thought. ' _Right. Stay away from that topic then._ '

  


Sherlock took a last look at the photograph and stepped toward the bed. "I am sorry, John. I really should learn to mind my own business."

  


John breathed harshly through his nose. He tapped play on his phone and looked up at his boyfriend. His face softened and he reached for Sherlock's hand, which he used to guide the younger man to sit beside him on the bed. He laced their fingers together before he spoke. 

  


"It's alright, Sherlock. Really. We're in a relationship and you're allowed to ask me about anything. It's just really hard for me talk about my family. The happy family you saw in that picture doesn't exist anymore. Someday, I'll tell you about it. Just not today."

  


Sherlock used his free hand to cup John's cheek as he leaned in and gave the older man a soft kiss. 

  


"That's fine, John. Why don't you ask me something?" 

  


"M'kay," John replied. "My back is starting to get sore though, so I'm gonna lay down. You can either stay where you are or lay with me. I'll be a perfect gentleman, I swear."

  


Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes as he lay down next to John. Though, in truth, his confidence was a front. He'd never laid in a bed with anyone besides Molly and Irene. But, it gained him a chuckle from John, so it was worth it. 

  


John first wanted to know how Sherlock had gotten into ballet, which lead to Sherlock asking how John got into rugby. Questions led to other questions. An answer from one man paved the way for a story from the other. Conversation between the two of them was as natural and easy and it flowed until they both became relaxed and silly. 

  


At one point, John told a story which made Sherlock laugh so hard that tears streamed down his face. John reached over to wipe the wetness off the other man's cheek and their eyes locked. Sherlock felt something shift between them and it sent a shiver down his spine. John licked his lips and Sherlock could tell he was considering something. 

  


"I know I promised to be a gentleman, but I'd really like to kiss you," John said, his voice soft and low. "Would that be ok? I know we're in bed and that can put thoughts in a person's head, but we don't have to go there. I have no expectations. Can I kiss you?"

  


Sherlock took in the plain and almost painful honesty in John's eyes. He had a feeling it wouldn't be long before this man would well and truly hold Sherlock's whole heart. He nodded his consent. 

  


John reached over and pulled Sherlock close, slipping one arm under the younger man's head and the other around his waist. Their lips met and Sherlock felt as though he was melting into John. The kiss quickly escalated from the kind of slow and tender kisses they'd already shared, into something hot and fervent. Sherlock gasped when John's tongue swiped along his bottom lip and he instinctively opened his mouth to John. 

  


Everything was so soft and wet and warm and Sherlock didn't know what to do with any of it, he only knew he didn't want it to stop. He gripped the front of John's shirt with both hands, willing him to stay close and keep kissing him. John's clever, wonderful tongue slid along Sherlock's and the younger man thought it was absolutely fantastic. 

  


Sherlock moaned softly when he felt John's fingers run through his hair, his other hand rubbing gentle circles on Sherlock's back. Knowing John was more experienced at snogging, sherlock thought it would be wise to copy him. He began to let his hands wander, slipping one up to settle on John's cheek. Eventually, they had to break apart to breathe and Sherlock's embarrassing whimper made John chuckle.

  


"You're gorgeous," he whispered before kissing along Sherlock's jaw and down his neck. 

  


Sherlock tilted his head and bared his neck to John's ministrations. He wondered briefly about how he would explain any marks on his neck to his mother, but all thoughts in his mind vanished when John latched on and began to suck at the skin on Sherlock's throat. John slipped a hand under the back of Sherlock's shirt and he was sure the heat of John's skin would burn a hole in him. 

  


The sounds Sherlock made were absolutely delicious and John would have been content to stay right here for his whole life, finding all the ways to draw those sounds out of his dancer. John shifted to get closer and his leg brushed against the erection straining Sherlock's trousers. He groaned and Sherlock gasped, jerking back and looking at John in horror. 

  


"I- I'm sorry," the younger man said, "Just ignore it. It's fine." 

  


There was an edge of panic and shame in Sherlock's voice that John didn't like at all. He rubbed Sherlock's back soothingly and tugged him close again before kissing him softly. 

  


"Shhh. It's okay, Sherlock. Perfectly natural reaction. I'm getting there myself, actually. We can ignore it if you want, but we don't have to." 

  


Sherlock went completely still and John kissed his face.

  


"I don't mean actual sex, Sherlock. Just, er... I-, that is. Just, here." 

  


John moved his leg forward, gripped Sherlock's thigh and pulled it up so that he could slip his leg between Sherlock's. The younger man stopped breathing as his cock was pressed against john's firm, muscular thigh. 

  


He managed to choke out "Oh, God!" before burying his face John's hair. 

  


John gripped Sherlock's hip and urged him forward. Sherlock whimpered as the friction sent a jolt through him. 

  


"It's good, yeah?" John murmured. "Keep going. Take what you need, gorgeous." 

  


He took Sherlock's mouth in another kiss; this one rougher and more heated than ever before. Sherlock started to move against John's thigh. The same thigh Sherlock had practically drooled over as he watched his rugby captain running around in his shorts just a few hours ago. His small, timid movements soon changed to quick, hard grinding. Nothing had ever felt this good. He wasn't sure he was going to survive this. Surely this would burn him alive. This was going to be over very soon and Sherlock might have been embarrassed if not for the fact that it felt so good he couldn't be arsed to care about any humiliation. 

  


"John," he gasped, "I'm-"

  


BANG. BANG. BANG.

  


Both men were nearly startled out of their skin and Sherlock barely held in his scream of frustration. 

  


"John?" called Mike from the other side of the door. "Mate, is Sherlock in there? Molly has to go home and she needs to know if Sherlock is coming." 

  


"I was about to," Sherlock pouted. 

  


John dissolved into laughter and Sherlock's irritation immediately evaporated. The two of them laughed for so long that Mike started to bang on the door again. 

  


"He'll be out in a minute," John yelled breathlessly. Then he dropped a kiss on Sherlock's mouth and whispered, "I'm sorry that didn't work out."

  


"It was brilliant while it lasted," Sherlock replied, rolling over and sitting up. "Maybe, we can try again another time?"

  


"God, yes," John replied rolling off the other side of the bed and standing up. He looked down at Sherlock and his eyes flickered down to where the younger man's trousers were still tented. "You can't go out there like that." 

  


"No. However, I'm not sure what to do with it." The awkwardness of the situation had been easy to ignore when consumed with the heat of what they were doing, but now Sherlock was very aware of the strangeness of the experience and he started to feel shy and slightly ashamed. 

  


"I'm sorry we don't have time to let you finish. I know that's not comfortable."

  


"It's really not," Sherlock mumbled, not able to make himself meet John's eyes. "I'm going to pop into the loo and take a moment to compose myself. Maybe splash some water on my face." 

  


"Good idea. There are some clean flannels on the shelf by the sink, if you need one. I'll go create a distraction." John gave him a wink and then left the room. 

  


Sherlock took a few steps down the short hallway and slipped into the bathroom. He leaned back against the door and pressed a hand to his waning erection, attempting to calm himself as quickly as possible. He briefly considered killing Molly for disrupting his first sexual encounter, but then he'd be without her and that would be unacceptable. He huffed harshly and snatched a flannel off the shelf. After a few minutes of deep breathing and running the cool, wet cloth over his face and neck Sherlock was calmer and his erection had mostly gone, so he left the loo to join everyone in the sitting room. 

  


John gave him a look that Sherlock easily interpreted as _'are you alright?_ ' The dancer gave a quick nod and looked to Molly.

  


"So, ready to go are we?" Sherlock asked.

  


"Um... yes?" Molly squeaked, her face burning with blush. 

  


John and Sherlock shared a quick grin as the shorter man pulled the dancer to him and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. 

  


"I want to see you again as soon as possible, okay?" John whispered.

  


"Yes, John."

  


They kissed one last time and Sherlock turned away to follow Molly out the door and down the stairs. 

  


They didn't even make it out of the building before she was demanding to know everything that had happened in John's bedroom. Sherlock refused and the girl pouted.

  


"Molly, I can't tell you. It doesn't seem right to share that." 

  


"I understand," Molly relented with a deep sigh. "I wouldn't be comfortable sharing intimate details about Mike and myself either. Did you enjoy yourself, at least?"

  


"Immensely. But not as much as next time."

  
Molly opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but the look in his eyes told her it was something just for John and Sherlock so she smiled and let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/akayarnjunkie). I don't bite and sometimes there's smut so it's win-win!


	12. The Potential to Be Amazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't always easy for our boys, but the good things help temper the bad things. And Sherlock's bum in tights is a VERY good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING- MILDLY VIOLENT HOMOPHOBIA* It's not that bad but be prepared, my loves! 
> 
> A million apologies for how long it took me to get this chapter out. It's hard to write about people falling in love when your own heart is hurting. I struggled a lot with this chapter. I didn't want the story to suffer because of me. But I got inspired tonight and in was able to squeeze out the last of this installment. Thank you all for sticking with me and I hope this chapter is up to par!
> 
> Thanks to lookupkate for the encouragement and the edit.

Two days after the botched night with Sherlock in his bedroom, John was still riding high on the experience as he prepared for Friday afternoon's rugby practice. 

  


Something was wrong with the team and John knew it the second he walked into the locker room. The usually boisterous lads were speaking in much lower tones that normal and everyone stopped talking as soon as John entered. Half the men were looking at John, faces ranging from passive to outright glares. The other half were pointedly and obviously not looking at their captain at all, seemingly very interested in tying their shoes or folding their clothes. Before John could think too much about it, Mike barreled in behind him, talking excitedly and keeping John distracted while they dressed and walked outside to start practice. 

  


Once everyone was changed and out on the field, things seemed off again. John couldn't help but notice that the other men were glancing at him while holding whispered conversations. He decided that whatever the problem was, it didn't belong on the pitch and he started leading the lads in their warm-up routine. Some of them resisted a bit but no one outright said anything so John let it go for the time being. 

  


John caught up with Mike while they were running laps around the pitch and asked, "Mate, do you have any idea what's going on?" 

  


"You mean why everyone is acting so weird?" Mike huffed. "No idea. I guess we've missed something." 

  


"I guess so," John replied. "Everyone keeps looking at me and it's making me really nervous." 

  


"I'm sure it's fine, John. You know how the guys get sometimes." 

  


John just couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong and it was his fault. Before he could respond, he was nearly knocked to the ground by a force from behind. John stumbled several steps before Mike was able to catch him and prevent the blonde from falling on his face. 

  


"Oi, Stevens! What the fuck is your problem, mate?" Mike yelled at the man who had run into John. 

  


Stevens threw a snarl over his shoulder and kept running. Anderson laughed loudly and clapped him on the back when Stevens caught up. 

  


"Seriously, Mike, what the hell is going on?"

"I honestly have no idea," Mike replied with a helpless shrug. 

  


It all came to a head halfway through practice. Coach Bryan had gathered the team to yell at them for all the mistakes they'd made in their last game and had them on the pitch running plays over and over. 

  


Anderson had the ball and John was hot on his heels as they raced down the pitch. At the last second, John was able to throw on a burst of speed and tackle the other man to the ground. He had a split second to think about how well the play had gone before he felt Anderson's knee smash into his diaphragm. The air was immediately forced out of John's lungs and pained sound forced it's way from his throat as he rolled off of Anderson and onto the ground. 

  


Anderson got up onto his knees and leaned forward to look John right in the eye as he snarled "Stay off me, faggot!"

  


John heard the words but he was too busy trying to breathe to really process what was happening. Mike appeared behind Anderson and drug him to his feet by the collar of his shirt. Anderson whipped around only to find Mike right in his face. 

  


"What the fuck did you just say, you piece of shit?" 

  


"This doesn't concern you, Mike," Anderson replied. 

  


"It concerns me though," Coach Bryan growled as he stepped forward and pulled Mike away from the standoff before kneeling next to John. "You alright, Watson?"

  


John nodded and allowed his coach to help him to his feet. He bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to regulate his breathing and find a way to lessen the pain in his abdomen. 

  


"Now," Coach said, turning to face Anderson again. "What the bleeding hell just happened here? I saw what you did to Watson. That's not only illegal, it's also a really fucking stupid thing to do. What's your problem?" 

  


Anderson pursed his lips, but didn't answer. His eyes flitted around the team who had all gathered close by. 

  


"Right," the coach continued, his gaze moving over the faces of the men around him. "This whole team has been acting strangely all day. I want to know what's going on." When no one replied, he looked to John. "Watson? Any idea what this is all about." 

  


John's voice wheezed just a bit as he shook his head and answered, "No, sir."

  


The older man sucked in a deep breath, his jaw tensing as he looked back to Anderson. "Fine. No one wants to talk? That's fine. But you should all consider this a warning. Whatever is going on between you men in your personal lives does not belong on this pitch. Don't bring it here. When you're here you're a team and you will respect each other and you will respect John as your captain. Anything less will be grounds for discipline." 

  


"I don't think John should be captain. I don't want to take orders from a poofter." Anderson looked John right in the eye as he continued. "That's right, Watson. I saw you with that bloke; holding his hand and kissing him. Right here on the pitch, in front of everyone. It was disgusting! He's that queer little ballerina that you met at Molly's party. I remember him." 

  


John stared at his teammate in shock and Mike clenched his fists. Coach Bryan's eyes narrowed a bit as he looked between John and Anderson. 

  


"Does anyone agree with Anderson?" he asked. "Should we choose a new captain?" 

  


There were a few calls of 'yes' and some nods from the team. 

  


Coach nodded. "Everyone who thinks we need a new captain, step forward." 

  


John's shoulders slumped as six of his teammates stepped forward to join Anderson.

  


"Alright," Coach said, crossing his arms and standing tall. "I'm going to repeat this once more: What's happening in your personal lives does not belong on my pitch. No one's sexual preference matters on my team. My team respects each other at all times. If you can't do that, you will be removed from my team. If I see anyone giving Watson a hard time during practice or games, you will be removed from my team. If I hear of anyone giving Watson a hard time outside of this pitch, you will be removed from my team. I will not stand for bullying. Not ever.

  


'As for you lot," Coach Bryan said, looking to the men standing around Anderson. "You get to stay here with me and clean the locker room. That includes the loo and the showers. The rest of you can go for the day. Everyone had better be back to normal tomorrow." 

  


John felt massive relief at being defended by the coach he admired so much and glad that most of the team had stood behind him, but he'd never seen Anderson look so angry. He had a feeling that this wasn't the end, regardless of what Coach had said. 

  


He went back to the locker room and showered quickly, a few of his teammates gave him encouraging smiles or pats on the back as they milled about. He returned to his locker and started getting dressed when Mike rushed up to him 

  


"Get dressed quickly," Mike urged with a grin.

  


"Why?" John asked, already moving faster in compliance. 

  


"We have somewhere to be and soon so move your arse!" the other man replied, shoving his gear haphazardly into his duffle.

  


"I'm not really in the mood to do anything today, mate. Not after all that." John said as he waved a hand in the general direction of the pitch.

  


Mike stopped what he was doing and took a step closer to his friend, pitching his voice a bit lower so only John could hear. "John, you know that was all shit, yeah? There's nothing wrong with you being with Sherlock. Those guys are just bastards." 

  


"I know it's not wrong, but it's going to be hard sometimes. I wasn't ready for it. Especially not from people I had thought were my friends."

  


Mike frowned and gripped John's shoulder. "I'm not going to lie, John. Some people won't want to accept two men in a relationship, and that's really shitty, but you can't let that drag you down. I've seen you with Sherlock and I think that the two of you have the potential to be amazing together. You both already care so much and it's honestly lovely. I'm really happy for you. So, please, don't let Anderson and his band of shitheads get to you." 

  


John couldn't help but laugh before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I care about him a lot. I think he's worth any amount of stupidity those fuckers can throw at me." 

  


Mike's eyes twinkled and his lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Johnny Boy, just you wait. I'm taking you somewhere that'll show you just how worth it that boy of yours is." 

  


"That sounds a bit scary, honestly," John murmured as he turned to finish getting changed. 

  


Mike's only response was a chuckle. 

  
  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
  


John was only slightly surprised when Mike drug him off the tube and began walking in the direction of the dance studio. Watching Sherlock and Molly dance seemed like an excellent way to spend their unexpectedly free afternoon. John hadn’t seen Sherlock dance since that first time, weeks ago now, and the memory of his gorgeous boyfriend leaping around in his tights was enough to quicken John’s pace. 

  


They entered the building and John turned turned left, headed toward the room where Sherlock and Molly rehearsed. He was stopped in his tracks when Mike grabbed the back of his jacket. 

  


“No, mate. This way.” Mike gestured down the main hall. 

  


“Okay,” John replied, eyebrows furrowing a bit. “Why?” 

  


Mike grinned hugely as he pointed to a framed poster on the wall.

  


“A recital?” John huffed a laugh. “I always picture recitals with little kids performing. It never occurred to me that older dancer did them too.” 

  


“Sherlock hates them with a passion, but Mistress Dubois makes them do it so she can gauge audience reaction to their routines before they use them in competition.” 

  


John smiled softly at the image of a grumpy Sherlock waiting backstage while little girls in fluffy tutus took their turn on stage. 

  


“Come on, John,” Mike said, propelling his friend down the hall with a hand on his shoulder.

  


They reached a grand-looking set of double doors and Mike greeted a man standing nearby. 

  


“Hello, Stanley.”

  


“Hey, Mike!” the man replied with a grin. “How are ya? How’s Molly?” 

  


“We’re both great, thanks. This is my mate, John.” 

  


“Pleasure to meet you,” Stanley said. “You two had better get inside while the little ones are still on. People don’t like being disturbed when the senior dancers start performing. Should be plenty of room so take any seats you’d like. Just don’t put up a fuss if anyone says you’re in their seats and none of us should get in any trouble.” He winked and Mike chuckled. 

  


The two men slipped in the door and found two seats near the middle of the room. The dancers currently on the stage were probably about seven or eight years old and actually much better dancers than John would have thought. The tiny little buggers twirling and jumping were absolutely adorable and John immediately wondered what Sherlock had looked like at this age. He could only imagine a tiny, curly-haired boy with a stern expression and it made him giggle. 

  


A few more groups took their turns, each a bit older than the last. After every performance, the audience would applaud politely and wait quietly for the next group to be announced. John was enjoying the show more than he would have thought, but he was getting impatient. Finally, the emcee announced “Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes, dancing The Tschaikovsky Pas de Deux” and John sat up much straighter in his chair. Everyone in the auditorium seemed to grow still and quiet as if they knew that something special was about to happen.

  


The curtain rose and John’s whole world seemed to contract down to the stage in front of him. Music started as the stage lights rose slowly. Molly entered first; her gauzy pale pink skirt swirled around her legs as she flitted across the open floor, stopping just past center and turning her body partway to watch and lean toward Sherlock as he ran out of the wings from the opposite side of the stage. 

  


If he had been standing John certainly would have fallen over at the sight of Sherlock. The first thing that caught his eye was the dancer's tunic. The sleeves were white and puffy but the bodice was a gorgeous deep blue that was a perfect compliment to Sherlock's pale skin and dark hair and it was fitted enough to show off his chest. Then there were the tights. 

  


“Bloody hell,” John whispered breathlessly, his eyes hungrily roaming Sherlock’s lower half. 

  


The tights might well have been painted directly onto Sherlock’s skin. They clung tightly to every inch of the dancer’s sculpted legs, skimming along the muscles and dipping into the valleys between them. When Sherlock took his place on stage his back was to the audience and John’s mouth went dry. The tights sat deep in the crevice between Sherlock’s luscious arse cheeks. The light blue fabric of the tights and the bright stage lights came together to throw everything into stark contrast. Every curve was more pronounced, every angle seemed more defined. John worried for a moment that he would be left in an embarrassing position after the performance, but then the couple on stage began to move and John was entranced. 

  


At first the two danced together, Sherlock lifting Molly and carrying her across the stage as though she weighed nothing. He moved her so smoothly that she appeared to fly like a feather caught in the wind. He supported her and twirled her while she balanced on her toes, and he balanced for both of them as he held her off the ground and they leaned in different directions. John couldn’t help but think about how strong his boyfriend had to be to do these things and he felt flustered again. 

  


After a few minutes, Molly danced off into the wings and Sherlock was left standing alone on stage. The music started anew, pitched lower and more percussive than before. Sherlock began to move, quick and sure. He seemed to defy the laws of physics and gravity, leaping too high and staying in the air too long for it to be real. It was unlike anything John had ever seen. 

  


Eventually Sherlock danced offstage and Molly came back. Her music was much more energetic, with flutes that reminded John of trilling birds. She spun and pranced, springing up and down on her toes in a way that didn’t even seem possible, but was absolutely enchanting. 

  


The two dancers switched off a few more times before they came back together. They were perfectly in sync as they leapt and twirled around the stage. Each time Molly jumped Sherlock caught her effortlessly. He didn’t even seem to have to try. It was as though he just stuck out his arms and Molly magically appeared in them. With a final flourish from the dancers and a deep roll of percussion in the music, Sherlock lifted Molly over his head and gracefully ran off stage. 

  


Everyone stood and the room erupted into applause. Sherlock and Molly came back out on stage to take their bows. Sherlock was beautiful; breathing hard, cheeks pink, sweat on his forehead, and a huge grin on his lips. John clapped even harder and smiled so wide he was afraid his face would crack open. 

  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
  


“Are you sure, they’ll come out this door?” John asked. “It’s been almost an hour and it’s freezing out here.” 

  


“They’ll be out any minute,” Mike replied, leaning against the wall beside the studio’s back door. “They have people they have to talk to before they can leave. 

  


John growled and tried to cover his face with the collar of his jacket. Both men’s heads snapped up at the sound of the door opening and Molly’s excited squeal. John was delighted at the surprise on Sherlock’s face as he spotted his rugby captain. The blonde gave him a grin which Sherlock returned as he all but ran into John’s arms. 

  


“What are you doing here?” Sherlock mumbled into John’s neck. 

  


“Mike brought me to watch you dance. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. You were so beautiful up there. Why didn’t you tell me you were dancing today?”

  


“I thought you had rugby practice.” 

  


John stiffened and Sherlock pulled back to look at him. 

  


“John? What’s wrong?”

  


John forced himself to relax and rubbed Sherlock’s sides. “Nothing, love. I’m fine. We just had a tough practice today. Some of the lads had bad attitudes and they couldn’t leave them off the pitch.” 

  


Sherlock’s jaw dropped slightly and his eyes widened. “D-did you just call me ‘love’?” he stammered.

  


“Oh,” John answered. “I guess I did. Is that okay?”

  


Sherlock blushed and his mouth turned up into a small smile. “It’s fine, John.” 

  


“Good,” the older man whispered before leaning in to kiss Sherlock softly. “I want you to tell me when you have performances like this. I want to come watch when I can.” 

  


“Okay,” Sherlock replied, pressing forward to kiss John again. 

  


Someone cleared their throat and both men looked toward the door where an older woman stood, smiling slightly as she looked at them. 

  


“Mummy!” Sherlock exclaimed a bit too loudly, as he took a step back. 

  


John’s eyes shot open wide and he dropped his hands to his sides. The woman- Sherlock’s mother, apparently- seemed to be trying to hold in a laugh as she watched the young men. 

  


“Sherlock, dear, I was just wondering if you wanted to ride home with me.” 

  


“Um… yes,” Sherlock answered, making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

  


“Would your boyfriend like a ride too?” She asked, looking John directly in the eye. 

  


Sherlock gaped at her and didn’t answer so John stepped forward and held out his hand. “Hello, ma’am. I’m John Watson.” 

  


“John,” she said softly, taking his hand in both of hers and grinning at him so genuinely that her eyes actually sparkled. John couldn’t help but like her immediately. “Aren’t you a handsome young man? And so polite. Please, call me Violet.” 

  


“Thank you, Violet.”

  


“I wish I had time to chat but I’m afraid I have to go. Did you need a ride?”

  


“No, ma'am- er, Violet. Thank you for the offer, but I'll just take the tube back.” 

  


Violet nodded, “It was wonderful to meet you, John. You must come have dinner with the family soon!” 

  


“I’d like that very much,” John replied honestly. 

  


Violet patted his cheek and turned back toward the door. John gave Sherlock a quick kiss goodbye and promised to text him later. Sherlock hated to leave John’s company so quickly, but he had just been outed to his mother and it seemed very important that he go with her. 

  


On the way home Sherlock could think of nothing to say. He’d never discussed any part of his sexuality with this parents, but they’d never exhibited any signs of homophobia and his mother had seemed genuinely happy to meet John. 

  


Finally Violet broke the silence “Stop thinking so much! I don’t care that you're not heterosexual and I think your John is just lovely. I’m glad I finally met him. I knew something was different with you and I was sure it had something to do with romance.” 

  


“You noticed that?” Sherlock was nearly indignant that he could be read so easily. 

  


“Oh, my darling. I notice so many things that you think I don’t see.”

  


Sherlock’s stomach lurched his panicked gaze snapped to his mother’s face. 

  


“Don’t worry, Sherlock. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. Just know that whatever makes you happy is fine with me. You’re my child and I love you unconditionally.” 

  


Sherlock swallowed around the lump in his throat and tried to think of nothing as he watched the scenery fly by outside his window. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I will be the first to admit that I know NOTHING about being gender fluid. I read over some things online and that's the extent of my knowledge. I have no intention to be offensive. If anything I've written is blatantly wrong, PLEASE point it out! I'm open to criticism as long as it's constructive!


End file.
